


A Heart's Home

by obilupin



Series: Heart and Home [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Cultural Differences, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fix-It, GFY, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bilbo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Smitten Thorin, Tags May Change, Thilbo, Timeline Shenanigans, bagginshield, more pairings to be added, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 109,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obilupin/pseuds/obilupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bungo Baggins dies, Bag End and all his possessions should pass to the husband of his daughter and only child, Bilba. There is one small problem. Bilba doesn't have a husband and has never shown any inclination towards acquiring one. Bungo took account for that in his will in a manner Bilba did not expect. Luckily for her a wizard has other plans. And then things start getting complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad News - Check. Good News - Looks like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not mine. No money is made from this.
> 
> This is my first story in more than a decade and it is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine. Please be gentle.
> 
> I've moved up the start of the Quest for Erebor to the year 2926 instead of 2941. Fili, Kili and Ori are still old enough to go on the quest. I posted a few notes up on tumblr including a link to an article I'm using as a reference for age in dwarven culture.

oOoOoOo

“Upon my death I leave all my worldly possessions to the husband Bilba Baggins for she is my only child, but as a daughter can not herself inherit. Should Bilba be unmarried at the time of my passing Gerontius Took, Thain of the Shire, or his successor shall become guardian of my daughter, and for the span of up to one year from the date of my death, steward of my estate. During that year, if Bilba should marry, my estate shall transfer immediately to her husband. If for some reason my daughter does not wish to choose a husband, the Thain may choose a gentle hobbit for her to marry. If at the end of one year after my death, should Bilba still choose to remain unwed she then forfeits any future claim on my estate, and it shall pass to Otho Sackville-Baggins.”

When her father's solicitor had contacted her about going over her recently departed father's will Bilba hadn't expected anything like this! Bilba couldn't believe what she was hearing. This couldn't be her father's will. Her beloved father wouldn't do this to her. He wouldn't force her to marry. He just  _ wouldn't! _

Bilba's shocked gaze met the gentle one on her grandfather's face after the solicitor finished reading. Gerontius Took was a very elderly hobbit at one hundred and twenty four years of age earning him the moniker 'Old Took'. Between his age and being the Thain, this meeting had been scheduled to take place in his home. She had not expected the reading of Bungo Baggins' will to include anyone beyond her grandfather, the solicitor and herself. The presence of Otho and his wife, Lobelia, was irksome. However, given what she had just heard, it was the attendance of Willoughby Boffin that was now the most alarming.

“Is this legal?” Bilba questioned.

“Yes, My Blossom, it is,” her grandfather said. “Here is a book on inheritance law if you wish to read it.”

Bilba took the book he handed her. Considering hobbits didn’t have very many laws compared to other races, she was not surprised to see it was very thin. It wouldn’t take her long to read it.

“Your father wanted to make sure you had someone to take care of you,” Old Took continued. “The earlier the marriage is taken care of, the less interruptions there will be in your life and in the running of your father's estate. We can start making the arrangements immediately and the wedding can take place in three months. I know you have never been in any rush to marry, but this is for the best.”

“I don't need someone to take care of me!” Bilba objected. “I took care of Papa after Mama died. I've been running Papa's estate as his health declined. I don't need a husband to do something I am perfectly capable of doing myself!”

The snorts that came from Otho and Lobelia's direction were ignored.

“Now Bilba, penning letters your father dictated to you is not the same as running an entire estate,” Willoughby said in a gently condescending manner.

“I've been doing much more than that!” She was incensed to be treated as a simpleton by someone Bilba doubted had the ability to read or write anything beyond his own name.

The elderly hobbit sighed. “That may be true, but it does not change the conditions of your father's very valid will.”

“I assume since he is here, your choice of husband for me is Mr. Willoughby.”

“He is,” Old Took informed her.

Bilba was appalled. Half the Shire, including Willoughby, had been trying to pair them up since she was in her tweens. Socially it was an excellent match. He was the second son from prominent family, could make any plant in his garden flourish, and had the full, rounded figure many lasses around Bilba's age had sighed over as tweens. He was perfectly respectable and considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the Shire.

Willoughby Boffin was also the most tedious and controlling hobbit Bilba had ever met. Not only had he been trying to curb her more Tookish ways for years, but he was very critical of nearly everything she did. From her choice of clothing to the running of Bag End's household, nothing was done in quite the manner appropriate for a perfectly respectable hobbit. Her cooking was about the only thing spared from his nitpicking. Most of the time. She had always thought that he and Lobelia should have married, then they could spend their lives criticizing the inhabitants of the Shire together.

There had to be something Bilba could do, something in the book that would help her, but she needed time to read and think. Old Took had always doted on Bilba because she was the only child of his favorite daughter, Belladonna, and she was going to take advantage of that fact.

“Grandfather, I'm sure you can understand this information has come as a surprise. Could I have a few days to process it before we proceed with any plans?”

“You are turning thirty-six this year! Thirty-six!” Lobelia didn't hesitate to point out. “Most lasses your age are at least expecting their first faunt. You call the Baggins respectability in to question becoming an old maid like this! Either get married or quit Bag End so Otho can run it properly!”

“Now Lobelia, it is a reasonable request and a few days won't make much of a difference in the long run.” Turing to Bilba Old Took smiled, “My Blossom, I want you to go ahead and take a week to recover from the shock. Take this opportunity to read the book if you wish, then come visit me again and we will discuss further plans.”

Little did he know the difference that time would make for the fate of Middle Earth.

oOoOoOo

The walk home had not given Bilba the chance to think of a solution because she spent it avoiding being caught by either Willoughby or the two Sackville-Baggins. If after arriving home there were any knocks on her door, she didn't answer them.

Bilba read and thought long into the night, forgetting completely about dinner or supper. She’d not found anything in the book that would help her situation. Though she fell asleep at some point, she gained little rest.

Upon waking Bilba made a pot of tea and took it and a plate of scones out to sit in the front garden. There she continued to try to come up with a plan to keep Bag End without having to marry that odious clot-head.

Hobbit lasses normally married in the year after coming of age at thirty-three. She knew it was odd that she was nearing her thirty-sixth birthday and was still unwed. It wasn't that Bilba was against marriage. She did want a husband and children, but she wanted that life with someone she loved. Such a hobbit didn't seem to exist though. Family members and friends had introduced her to so many bachelors, Bilba was sure she had met every unmarried male in the Shire, including the ones just out of their tweens. Not one drew her eye. Not one made her heart beat just a little bit faster.

Bilba was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't notice when a tall man dressed in a travel worn gray robe and pointed blue hat stopped at her gate until he cleared his throat loudly.

Startled, it took a moment for her to respond. “Er, good morning.”

"What do you mean?" the tall man in gray asked. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

“Today? Just the first two I suppose,” she sighed still a bit distracted by her thoughts even with the rare sight of one of the Tall Folk before her. 'Manners, Bilba!' she mentally shook herself and focused on the man. “I'm sorry. Do I know you?”

“You know my name, though you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf, and Gandalf means me!”

“Gandalf! Not the wandering wizard that made such excellent fireworks?!” A smile confirming Bilba's words encouraged her to continue. “It has been years since you've visited these parts. You must have some new stories to tell! Can I tempt you with tea or second breakfast in exchange for one?”

Bilba couldn't believe it! Gandalf! The wizard friend of both her mother and grandfather had returned to the Shire. She didn't know exactly what wizards did or what they were capable of, but she did know he was well respected by Old Took. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to help her. Surely it couldn't hurt to ask.

Gandalf smiled, “Tea sounds wonderful.”

Bilba ushered him inside and pulled the man-sized chair her mother had kept for such occasions out from where it was stored. She fixed tea, and Gandalf spoke of things he had seen in far away lands.

When Bilba's stomach growled loudly she realized she had been listening to the wizard's tales for so long it was already time for elevenses. Gandalf smiled and encouraged her to eat, even taking a scone for himself at her insistence.

Pulling out his pipe, he silently asked her permission to smoke. At her nod, he lit it and took several puffs. 

“Now, Bilba, what did you wish to speak to me about?” the wizard surprised her by asking.

“Well,” she hesitantly started. “I don't know if there is anything you can do to help, but I am in a bit of a jam. More than a bit actually,” she wryly smiled and told him about the conditions of her father's will, feelings towards her grandfather's choice of potential husband for her, and lack of even remote interest in anyone else.

Gandalf listened intently to every word. Bilba was grateful he didn't seem to be listening just to humor her because she was female like many of the hobbit lads did. After her tale was done he sat a few minutes in contemplation.

When he finally spoke Bilba was both intrigued and disappointed.

“I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Oh, that last word called to something Bilba's heart, but she had her own problems to deal with. ”An adventure,” she sighed wistfully. “I don't know, Gandalf. I don't see how that will help me keep my home.”

“You know the saying 'Home is where the heart is.' Where is your heart right now, Bilba? Does it embrace the quiet, comfortable ways of the Shire? Or does it long for you to go see the things from your books and maps for yourself? Ask yourself these questions. Do you love Bag End or do you love the memories from living here with your dear parents? Is this still home now that both of your parents are gone? Or is it just a smial?”

Bilba did not have to think long about that answer. Had not the mere mention of adventure stirred her heart more than anything had since the death of her vivacious mother?

“Perhaps you could find another home,” offered Gandalf. “Although, it stands to reason, if the one who could win your heart is not in the Shire, he must be out there somewhere,” the wizard said waving his pipe. “What better way for you to find him than by going on an adventure? Who knows, you might even find him in time to keep Bag End!”

Seeing the yearning in her eyes Gandalf nodded. The wizard stood and collected his things while saying, “Very well. It is settled then. This will be good for you,” a secretive smile crossed his lips, “and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

“Others?! And when is this adventure to take place? My grandfather is expecting to speak with me next week about what I have decided to do.”

Gandalf moved towards the door. “Oh, we will be gone before that, my dear. Two or three days at most. Perhaps you should write him a letter for after we have departed. You wouldn't want to worry Old Took too much. He is very fond of you.”

“Yes, that is a good idea. But Gandalf, you still haven't explained about these 'others' you mentioned,” she said calling his attention back.

“Oh, they are the group of dwarves we will be assisting on the adventure!”

“Dwarves!” Bilba exclaimed.

“Yes. I believe there will be thirteen of them,” the wizard confirmed. “They should arrive here late tomorrow. I suggest you have dinner ready. They are fond of a good meal. Not as much as hobbits, of course, but they do have quite the appetites.”

“Dwarves in my home! I've never even imagined such a thing. Oh, but wait a minute! What do dwarves actually eat? There are some strange stories told about them and I'll not have any guests in my house go hungry!”

“They do not consume dirt and stone like some tales say and in fact find that very insulting. Dwarves will eat your usual fare, but they have a strong preference to meat over vegetables. They will certainly help you clear out your pantry before leaving on our journey!” he informed her merrily.

The wizard then turned to head to the door, forgetting about the chandelier hanging from the ceiling and ran into it. Grabbing onto it to stop its swinging, he huffed then ducked around it and was out the door.

What fortune! A party of dwarves in her home and an adventure to go on! Oh, she had so much to do!

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the actress I picture as Bilba. Her name is Katie Hall. This is a picture of her as Christine Daae in Phantom of the Opera.


	2. Preparations for a Party and Its Rough Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilba gets ready to host a party of dwarves but something goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! There is some violence against Bilba in this chapter.
> 
> Un-beta'd.

 

oOoOoOo

Bilba spent most of the rest of the day trying to decide what to pack. What would she need on an adventure? She didn't know where they were going or how long it would take. Would she need her heavy winter cloak or were they going somewhere warm? There was also the fact that anything she left behind she may never see again. Not that much beyond her clothes would be considered hers. It was all part of the estate.

In the end, she decided to take three extra dresses (two sturdy enough for travel and her best party dress, because you never knew if you might need to look nice), an extra pair of the trousers she wore under her skirts when taking a walking holiday, and underclothes. To that she added a comb, some ribbons, a bar of soap, monthly rags, and a mending kit. She would just have to wait until Gandalf and his dwarves arrived to pack anything more.

The remainder of the day was spent cleaning her home making sure there would be enough clean space for her guests to rest in.

Bilba slept soundly that night.

oOoOoOo

Bilba spent hours the next day cooking. She laden her dining room table with brandy braised roast beef with mushrooms, brown sugar bourbon glazed ham and carrots, roasted salmon and asparagus in white wine and lemon butter sauce, rosemary red wine braised chicken and potatoes, and spicy stewed sausages with peppers and onions. There were roasted tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, a platter of cold meat and cheese, and even a salad. She baked loaves of fresh bread, a butter cake with mascarpone cream and fresh berries, a chocolate whiskey cake with fluthered cream, a cinnamon walnut bundt cake, a bacon bourbon pecan pie, a butterscotch pumpkin pie, cranberry and orange scones, and the Baggins family's secret recipe lemon-blackberry tarts.

She wondered for a moment if she was going a bit overboard, but she would be making this much if she was having a party of fourteen of her relatives over, so she didn't worry about it too much. No one left Bilba Baggins' table hungry. No one.

Gandalf had said the dwarves would clean out her pantry. She didn't know if he was speaking literally, so just in case she hid enough sausage, bacon, eggs, milk, and bread for a decent breakfast.

After she had afternoon tea, Bilba bathed and put on her second best party dress. It was a pale green blouse with a lavender skirt and plum colored bodice. She did her best to tame her brown curls with the matching ribbons, but eventually she had to concede that she could do no more and moved back to her preparations.

As Bilba was putting the finishing touches on one of the cakes there was a knock on the door.

'They're here!' she thought, but when she opened the door, it wasn't Gandalf or any dwarves.

“Er, Mr. Willoughby. Good evening. May I ask what has you calling by so late?”

“I've just heard you had a guest yesterday. One of the Tall Folk,” he scowled.

“Yes, I did. What of it?”

He forced himself inside and closed the door. Bilba was so shocked at his actions she didn't even try to stop him.

“It is not respectable to keep such company!” shouted Willoughby.

“It was-”

“No!” he said grabbing one of her wrist tightly. “This stops right now. I have put up with this wild behavior long enough. You are to be my wife and you will act accordingly!”

“Now wait a moment! That has not yet been decided,” Bilba protested as she struggled to free her captive wrist. It was starting to hurt.

“It has been decided. Perhaps I've been too considerate with you for you to doubt that YOU. ARE. MINE!” Grabbing her other wrist, he shoved her against the wall and smashed his lips against hers.

Willoughby didn't see anything wrong with his actions. He had loved Bilba for years. So much so, that he had started trying to mold her into the bride she would need to be for him. The combination of her father's fine estate, her excellent cooking, and her beauty were unmatched by any other lass in the Shire. She belonged to him and she would be his wife. He was entitled to this. Entitled to touch her as he pleased. He had been looking forward to having her in his bed, at his mercy. She would give him many beautiful children. She just had to stop this unruly behavior and learn her place. Then, she would be perfect!

Bilba struggled to push him off but his flabby bulk pinned her in place. She was only able to turn her head away from his harsh kiss.

oOoOoOo

Dwalin could see the green door with the wizard's mark on it at the end of the lane. He hoped Tharkun was right about this Bilba Baggins fellow and there would be lots of food. He was looking forward to a break from cram.

He stomped his way up to the door and knocked. Well, knocked for a dwarf, which meant it was actually pounding.

“HELP!”

Alarmed at the shout that obviously came from a lass, Dwalin did what any dwarf would do when hearing a female in trouble. He drew an ax, threw open the door and rushed inside. Not far from the door a fat halfling had a lass pinned against a wall. She was hitting and kicking his bulk but that didn't seem to deter him from letting his hands roam her body. With one hand the tall dwarf pulled the fat little thing towards him by his collar and lifted him up so they were face to face. The halfling's feet dangled more than a foot off the ground.

“I donna think the lass likes yur attentions, ye beardless whelp,” he growled bringing his ax up towards the shorter male's throat. There was a soft splattering sound and he glanced down briefly. There was a small puddle on the floor below the halfling. Dwalin's scowl turned to disgust.

“Now, I'm lookin' fer Bilba Baggins. Is that ye?” he said shaking the sputtering halfling in his grip.

“No, I'm Bilba Baggins, Master Dwarf, at your service,” the lass pushed herself off the wall and curtsied a little shakily. There was no doubt in her mind that this intimidating dwarf with tattoos on his head was a warrior experienced in battle.

“Dwalin at yurs,” he said giving her a small bow. “And who's this fat lump?” he asked her shaking Willoughby again.

The filth finally found his tongue, “I am her betrothed! Now put me down this instant!”

Dwalin look questioningly from the chubby male to the pretty little lass in front of him. Curly brown locks framed a round face with rosy cheeks and big blue-green eyes and her body was curvy in all the right places. Oh, aye! She was a bonny lass. He understood why the chunk of lard wanted her, but that is no excuse to try to take such a thing by force!

“No, he isn't, Master Dwalin. He is no one of import,” she glared at the back of the other halfling.

“Would ye like me ta take out the trash then?”

That drew the first smile Dwalin had seen on her face. It seemed to brighten the room just a bit, even with the bruise he could see forming on one of her cheeks.

‘The beardless whelp must have struck her, too,’ Dwalin growled mentally.

“That would be much appreciated, Master Dwalin. Do try not to hurt him though. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble on his account!”

Willoughby squawked as he realized he was the trash they were referring to.

“He deserves more than a li'l pain fer what he did ta ye. Were he a dwarf his beard 'n hair would be shaved 'n he'd cast out ta roam the Wilds on 'is own. If the kin o’ the lass didna get ta him first anyways,” Dwalin said as he pulled the door open.

There, on the step, stood a white haired dwarf preparing to knock.

“Stand aside, Brother. I've trash ta throw out,” Dwalin told him.

Bilba saw the the elder dwarf raise his eyebrows, but he stepped out of Dwalin's way. The intimidating dwarf carried the hobbit a few steps down into her garden then threw him over the gate!

Willoughby rolled for several feet before struggling upright. “I'm going to tell the Thain about this!”

“I'd say it will be near midnight by the time you make it to the Great Smials. I'm sure he will be thrilled to be woken up so late for you to tell him I had dinner with his wizard friend, Gandalf the Grey, and his traveling companions,” Bilba said sweetly.

Even in the darkness he seemed to pale at the wizard's name. “I-I...” he stammered.

“Oh, and you might want to change clothes first. I think you soiled yourself while in Master Dwalin's tender care,” she smirked.

Turning to the two dwarves, she smiled apologetically, “Let me clean up the mess in the entryway, then you can come inside and rest. It won't take but a few moments,” and rushed inside to do just that.

Willoughby Boffin took off down Bagshot Row as fast as his round body could manage. He kept glancing behind to make sure Dwalin wasn't following him.

Dwalin kept watching him to make sure he didn't come back.

oOoOoOo

Due to their duties sometimes taking them beyond the Blue Mountains it had been nearly a year since Balin had last seen his brother. He'd not expected his first sight of Dwalin in such a long span of time to include him carting a fat halfling out of a hobbit hole by the back of his collar and speaking of shaving and banishment. He stepped aside when he was bid to do so, he just hoped it wasn't their host being tossed over the gate.

The night became more interesting when a hobbit lass stepped out the door after his brother to respond to the words shouted by the now dusty hobbit lad.

When the verbal altercation between the hobbits brought up the Thain of the Shire, Balin sighed and hoped he wasn't going to have to smooth the incident over with him. He'd never met the Thain himself, but dealing with a ruler was still dealing with a ruler no matter how amiable they supposedly were. It could strain relationships between the two peoples, and Balin knew for a fact some of the dwarven trading caravans visited the Shire regularly.

With the hobbits gone their own directions Balin turned a smirk to his brother. “Master Dwalin?” he laughingly questioned.

“Shut yer gob,” the burly dwarf cuffed his brother’s shoulder. “I didna have the time ta tell her no’ ta call me that.”

“Mind explaining?” Balin inquired.

Dwalin told him what he'd witnessed.

“You let him off too lightly. Are you going soft?” the white haired dwarf asked his brother.

“Naw, the lass asked me no' ta hurt him. She didna' want me ta get in trouble.”

“So,” Balin said slowly, “our burglar is a lass. A caring and too forgiving one at that.”

Dwalin nodded.

“Let us hope Tharkun arrives before Thorin does so the wizard gets to explain this to him instead of us.”

“Mahal save us,” Dwalin sighed. Looking down the lane he spotted two familiar figures headed their way. “Here come the lads.”

“Mister Dwalin! Mister Balin!” Kili called bounding up to them. “What are we standing outside for?”

Fili followed behind his brother. “Has it been canceled?”

Just then the door opened again. “Alright, that's all taken care of. You can come in now. Oh!” Bilba said noticing the additional dwarves in her front garden.

Dwalin moved inside, but the other three stopped at the door.

“Balin at your service,” the white haired dwarf introduced himself.

“Fili,” said a blond dwarf with braided mustache.

“And Kili,” said a brunette dwarf with a beard that wasn't much more than scruff.

“At your service,” they bowed together with big smiles.

“Bilba Baggins at yours,” she curtsied. She had no idea dwarves could be so... cute! She blushed and their smiles grew even bigger, bother them! Not wanting to give them a chance to make her blush more, she waved them inside.

oOoOoOo


	3. 13 Dwarves and a Wizard walk into Bag End...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and lovely coments!
> 
> Does anyone know of a good source for khuzdul?

oOoOoOo

Balin disappeared into the pantry while Dwalin enlisted Fili and Kili to move furniture around so that everyone could fit in the dining room. Bilba excused herself and went into her bedroom and shut the door.

Using the mirror, she had to fight back tears as she examined the damage Willoughby Boffin had done. Her hair was a mess, her dress rumpled, and a bruise was darkening on her cheek. She raised her arms in front of herself and saw bruises on her wrist, too.

Bilba had never even heard of such a thing occurring in the Shire before. Hobbits weren't a violent people.

Looking herself in the eye, her tears turned to anger. _How dare he!_ Her surprise had been so great, she had been unable to put up much of a fight. That would never happen again! She would not be weak! She should have used teeth and nails, stomped on his feet, kicked him between the legs, pulled his hair, poked him in the eye, grabbed something nearby and hit him with it, anything to defend herself. She would not let herself be that helpless again!

Removing the ribbons she shook her curls out. She'd just have to leave them loose for now. There were guests to attend to. Straightening her clothes she headed to the door.

As soon as she exited her room there was a knock on the front door. Opening it brought eight dwarves (eight!) tumbling down at her feet, one on top of another. Behind them Gandalf bent down to see into the doorway. He looked quite jovial until he spied the bruise on the hobbit's face.

“My dear Bilba, what has happened to you?” he asked in concern.

“It's not important right now,” she winced. Forcing herself to perk up and be a charming hostess, she exclaimed, “Now, none of that. This should be a merry party! I've never had the chance to share my cooking with dwarves before.”

She and Gandalf helped the fallen dwarves back onto their feet. “I've been informed dwarves have healthy appetites. I hope this is true. I spent most of the day cooking!”

“Oh, aye, lass! We do! Especially my brother, Bombur, here,” one said pointing a very fat redheaded dwarf who bowed. The dwarf speaking had black hair and the oddest hat that Bilba had ever seen. He bowed and tipped his hat a bit and continued his introductions. “I'm Bofur, at yer service. This is my cousin Bifur,” he said gesturing to a black and white haired dwarf that had something sticking out of his head who bowed. “He has an injury. He can't speak Westron 'cuz of it, but he can understand it just fine.”

“Pleased to meet you Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur,” Bilba curtsied.

Another redheaded dwarf stepped forward and bowed. “Gloin at you service.” He pulled a silver haired dwarf up beside him. “This is my brother Oin. He's hard of hearing.”

“Yes, she does look very endearing, but what does that have to do with supper?” the silver haired dwarf said bringing a trumpet up to his ear. 

The other dwarves guffawed at that and Bilba blushed.

Next a dwarf with silver hair braided up in an elaborate style stepped forward.

“Dori at your service,” he bowed. He tried to pull to his side a brown haired dwarf who had his hair (even his eyebrows!) done up into a sort of six point star.

Dodging he griped, “ 'ere, now! I can introduce me own self!” Turning to Bilba he bowed, “Nori at yer service.”

“My brother,” Dori clarified. “And this,” pulling the last of the group forward, “is our sister, Ori.”

Ori, a dwarf with reddish-brown hair styled in what looked to be a combination of bowl cut and shoulder length braids, stepped forward bowed and spoke softly, “At your service.”

Bilba beamed. “I'm Bilba Baggins, at your service. Welcome to Bag End! Come in, maybe the others have finished rearranging the furniture.”

oOoOoOo

The furniture rearranging _hadn't_ been completed. Many of the dwarves jumped in to help and chaos ensued. There were dwarves everywhere. They moved in and out of every room with furniture. She'd had to stop one of them from using her paternal grandfather's antique chair.

Gandalf also _had_ been speaking literally, when he told her the dwarves would clean out her pantry. If they weren't moving furniture, they were moving food. At this rate it wouldn't matter how many furnishings were moved out of the dining room there still wouldn't be enough room for everyone because it would be full of fare! She did manage to keep them from the small pantry she had stored the desserts in. Those were for last and were meant to be savored.

Unbeknownst to Bilba, Gandalf pulled Balin aside to ask if he knew anything about her bruises. The wizard had noticed the elderly dwarf give their hobbit a grandfatherly look that had seemed too gentle just for someone experiencing dwarven collaboration for the first time.

Balin passed on the account Dwalin had given him. The wizard's eyebrows alternated between a scowl and trying to reach his hair line throughout the tale.

“Very odd behavior for a hobbit,” Gandalf stated. “Violence of this sort is nearly unheard of. Hobbits have been known to fight when pushed to defend themselves, but to attack anyone? Most odd, indeed. I'm glad Dwalin arrived in time to keep Bilba from being injured worse.”

“The lass'll still have to deal with what _did_ happen at some point. Does she have any family she could go to for comfort?” the dwarf inquired.

The wizard hummed considerately. “Best not go that path. When they learn what has happened, there is a chance they will see her reputation as too damaged to do anything _but_ have her marry him. No, its best she comes with us.”

“They'd have her marry that beardless swine?!” Dwalin exclaimed from the doorway where he had been leaning, listening in on the conversation.

“It is possible, yes. A female's reputation is very important in the Shire,” the wizard informed them.

“The lass will most likely still be in danger traveling with us. It'll just be of a different sort,” countered Balin.

“Aye, and the Wild is no place for a gentle lass like her,” added his brother.

“Hobbits are resilient. She can handle an adventure with thirteen dwarves, even if there is a dragon at the end,” argued Gandalf.

“It will be up to you to convince Thorin of that,” the white haired dwarf told him.

The wizard harrumphed.

“Best come get some supper 'fore it's gone,” Dwalin said as he turned into the hallway.

“Gandalf, didn’t you say there are supposed to be thirteen dwarves?” Bilba called to him. “Only twelve have arrived.”

It was Dwalin who answered. “He is late is all. He traveled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come.”

“Then I best rescue some food to set aside for him!”

“Aye, lass. Everything on that table will be consumed,” Balin chuckled.

And they did. Then the dwarves treated her to their witty singing when she got a bit fussy about her plates and silverware. It might have been amusing if she had known beforehand that all her dishes would survive intact.

“Now that you have unnecessarily done the dishes I have to tell you there is dessert, too, if anyone still has room.”

A cheer went up from all the dwarves. Newly cleaned dishes and silverware were quickly passed around again.

One more knock sounded on the door and the dwarves went silent.

“He is here,” Gandalf said moving to answer the door.

Standing on her front step was the most gorgeous male Bilba had ever seen. Tall for a dwarf, he had long shiny black locks streaked with silver that only enhanced the dark color. He held himself in a way she occasionally saw her grandfather use when performing important duties as Thain, but this seemed to be this dwarf's natural posture. It was very regal, very majestic. She thought he must be someone of significance.

_'Oh, he is speaking. He has a lovely voice, too.'_ She mentally shook herself. _'Pay attention, Bilba!'_

“...lost my way. Twice. I'd never have found it if it at all wasn't for the mark on the door.”

“Mark! What mark? There is no mark on that door! It was painted a week ago!” Bilba declared.

“There is a mark. I put it there myself,” Gandalf informed her. “Bilba Baggins, may I introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin's eyebrows rose. “So, this is the hobbit, Gandalf? A lass! Tell me, Miss Baggins, have you done much fighting?” he asked circling her.

“Pardon me?”

“Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?” Thorin grilled.

“Well I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know,” she responded cheekily.

“I thought as much. She looks more like a barmaid than a burglar,” he scoffed.

_What?!_ How dare he walk into her home and insult her! They'd barely even been introduced! And all that attractiveness? Gone. He apparently lacked the personality to support his looks. Such a shame, too. He was _so_ good looking. Too bad he had to open his mouth and ruin it.

The other dwarves showed Thorin into the dining room where he took the seat at the head of the table. Bilba followed in carrying the dishes of food she had saved for him. It was only the thought of what her mother would think that stopped her from upending them over the rude dwarf's head. As it was, she ended putting the dishes down in front of him with more force than she usually would have been comfortable with inflicting on the aged crockery. The dwarves seated on one side of the table passed down some silverware while the other passed him a mug of ale.

“Come on, lass! Donna' hold back on us! Bring out dessert!” Bofur exclaimed.

“Alright, if you think you have room after eating nearly all the food in my home!”

“Nearly? Did we miss something?” asked Fili.

“Just what I put aside for breakfast tomorrow. You _do_ want breakfast don't you?”

“Aye!” they cheered.

“Especially if it is anything like supper tonight!” smiled Kili. There was more cheering agreement.

“You cooked all this?” Thorin turned to her and asked waving his hand at the food he'd been devouring.

She looked coldly down her nose at him. He seemed surprised that she could cook. “Yes,” she said very stiffly.

“It's very delicious. You are an excellent cook,” he said still sounding surprised.

“Careful or I might start to think you actually capable of manners,” Bilba smirked.

“Just wait. You haven't had dessert yet. I even made the Baggins family's secret recipe lemon-blackberry tarts.”

Thorin's eyes widen. “Blackberry?”

Dwalin and Balin chuckled, and Fili and Kili groaned. 

“Thorin is fond of blackberries,” Balin explained.

“Fond doesn't cover it. If it’s got blackberries, it means the rest of us won't get any!” pouted Kili. Thorin turned to scowl at him.

_‘Hmm, we'll see about that!’_ she thought.

There were two plates full of tarts. She could put one in front of Thorin to distract him, and the other at the opposite end of the table with the cakes and pies in between.

As she brought in the confections, the dwarves questioned Thorin about the meeting he'd attended.

“... will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

_‘Quest? Oh, this might be a good time to find out more about the adventure Gandalf had proposed.’_

There was talk of portends and ravens, and foretellings of the end of the beast's reign.

“What beast?” Bilba nervously inquired. Only after hearing about Smaug did doubts about going enter her mind.

The first argument broke out after Gandalf didn't answer how many dragons he'd killed. Bilba tried to intervene, but it was Thorin that succeed in bringing the group back to the topic of the Lonely Mountain.

_'OK, so the rude dwarf could be a charismatic leader,'_ she thought.

Gandalf pulled a key and a map out of nowhere and that started talk of hidden entrances into the mountain and the need for a burglar - her.

Another argument broke out about her status as a burglar (she wasn't one) and whether she was fit to accompany them (too gentle to fend for herself). It was true, but that last bit stung. Hadn't she needed Dwalin to save her? If she stayed here she wouldn't have anyone to protect her, but if she went would she be anything more than a burden?

“ _Enough!_ If I say Bilba Baggins is a burglar then a burglar she is. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the scent of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances suggest. And she's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself,” he glanced at Bilba, then turned his attention to Thorin. “You must trust me on this.”

“Very well,” Thorin said reluctantly. “We'll do it your way. Give her the contract.”

Reading it brought no comfort. Bofur's comments didn't help.

For the first time in her life, Bilba fainted.

oOoOoOo


	4. The Last of Bag End?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes spend the last bit of time in Bag End. At least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are still mine. Not beta'd.

oOoOoOo

 

Bilba was so embarrassed. She had actually _fainted_ , like some silly tween!

After coming to, Dwalin and Ori helped her to her armchair in the parlor, while Dori brought her some tea.

“I'll be alright, just give me a moment,” she said, breathing in steam from the tea with slow deep breaths. They nodded and left her there with the wizard.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Bilba burst out, “You never said anything about a dragon, Gandalf!”

“No adventure is without its obstacles, that is all part of what an adventure is, my dear girl!”

“An obstacle! He calls a dragon an 'obstacle'!” she scoffed. “What am I to do against a dragon?”

“Everyone faces dragons of one sort or another. The one that might be at the end of this quest just happens to be a literal one. Staying here in the Shire does not mean you will not have to face your own personal dragon. There are many fearsome foes in this world, Bilba Baggins, but one of the most dangerous are the ones that wear the face of a friend, someone to whom we have given our trust, someone with whom we should have been safe,” he said as he gently cupped the bruise on her face and traced the ones on her wrist.

“I-I... I have to think about this,” she stammered and headed to her room.

As she was changing for bed she heard the dwarves begin singing. It was dark and sad but very beautiful. It made the Took inside her sit up and take a deep breath. It was like this was the last night of winter and tomorrow would be the first sunshine of spring and all she had to do to feel it was step out her door. On that thought she fell into a peaceful rest.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin were the first to wake, something that would be very common in the coming months of travel.

“What is the wizard thinking? Why would he want to drag that tiny, soft creature from her comfortable home? To put her in danger, and possibly even be killed?” he groused to his two oldest and closest confidants.

He saw the sons of Fundin exchange significant looks before turning back to him.

“It is true Miss Baggins will be in danger if she comes with us, but she will still be in danger if she remains here.”

“What do you mean?” Thorin asked.

“Ye saw the bruise on her face,” Dwalin growled.

Thorin nodded.

“She has matching ones on her wrists, and possibly in other areas,” Balin informed him. “When Dwalin arrived a male hobbit was trying to force his attentions on her.”

Thorin looked shocked.

“There is more,” Balin said looking grave. “Tharkun informed us that her family selected this halfling to become her husband and they could still make her marry him.”

Horror crossed the King-in-Exile's face. “That is abominable!”

“Aye! To think the beardless runt still has a chance o' getting everything he wants instead o' being chuck out like the dishonorable dog he is!” Dwalin grumbled.

“Why would they force her to do such a thing?” Thorin wondered. “Surely she has another option besides leaving her home.”

“Hobbits do things differently here in the Shire. From what I gathered from Tharkun, it seems the lass would bare the dishonor instead of her attacker, and marrying him would protect her reputation.”

“What sort of logic is that? I see why the Halflings are not counted among the very wise,” Thorin sneered. “This still does not mean she should travel with us, however. I fear we would only lead her to her death.”

“If Miss Baggins has to marry an abusive husband she will be dead too,” reasoned Balin. “He has already hurt her once and they are not married, there would be nothing to stop him from doing it again and again should the wedding take place. It would be a very slow death, but death just the same. The lass'll be in danger either way. Let her choose which hardship she wishes to face.”

“I donna like it, but I'll no’ leave the lass here if she wants ta go,” declared Dwalin.

Thorin hesitated then sighed and slowly nodded. “I hope you broke some of his bones,” he told his friend.

Dwalin shook his head. “The lass asked me no' ta hurt him. Didna' want me ta get in some sort of trouble. So, I only threw him over the gate. Seems to be a spirited enough little miss, but she still needs a protector. The Halflings are obviously incapable of properly protecting their women-folk.”

“Are you volunteering, Dwalin?” Thorin asked.

“Trying to adopt a little sister?” Balin teased.

“Donna' know about the last bit, but I'll defend her as I would any female.”

“Maybe she could travel beside Ori,” Balin suggested. “Then Dori and Nori would be nearby too. Though I doubt the lass will lack companions. Fili and Kili are fond of a pretty face and the lass certainly is that, even without a beard.”

Oh, yes! Thorin had noticed _that_ when he had arrived.

 _‘Those big eyes. That curvaceous body. Those curls! Her skin looked so soft, too. Mahal save him!’_ He had to mentally shake himself away from those thoughts.

“That is another thing that worries me,” Thorin shared. “We do not need that sort of distraction on this quest. One female is bad enough without adding a second that has no skills to offer to the party.”

“She can cook. That meal was one o' the best I've ever had,” Dwalin objected.

_‘Durin's beard, could she cook! Everything he had eaten had been delicious, and those blackberry tarts must have come from the Valar!’_

“I will agree with that, but she will not be able to cook like that on the road.”

“Tharkun must have his reasons and for now we must be content with that,” Balin stated.

“I do not think I can be content, but I will go along with the wizard's mad scheme for now.”

“Isn't this whole quest a mad scheme?” Dwalin smiled.

“Shut up, Dwalin.”

The only response was laughter.

 

oOoOoOo

 

The next sign of life in the hobbit hole was the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. Upon entering, they found their hostess at work making breakfast. She was dipping slices of bread in a milky egg mixture and frying them. The next pan over had bacon and sausages sizzling in it, the one behind it was frying eggs, and there were several kettles heating water over the fire.

“Good morning, master dwarves. I hope you slept well,” she told them.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Baggins. That smells delicious,” Balin responded.

She turned a smile at them. “Breakfast will be ready in a little while. Could I enlist your help in setting the table?”

“O' course, lass,” Dwalin replied.

“Oh, and Balin,” she said pointing to the small table in the middle of the kitchen. On it sat a signed contract.

Picking it up and examining it, he nodded and said, “Everything appears in order. Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Miss Baggins.”

Bilba beamed. Thorin turned and walked away causing her expression to dim. She thought he had left because he disapproved.

In reality, he had turned away because he refused to let himself be affected by her bright smile. He would _not_ be distracted from his quest. Going outside he lit his pipe and watched the sky lighten.

 

oOoOoOo

 

As Balin and Dwalin set the table the elder smiled at his brother and said, “Apparently it is not just the two youngest lads of the Line of Durin that are affected by a pretty face.”

“'Bout time. Should we do anything 'bout it?”

“Just watch for now, I think. Let us see if it goes anywhere on its own.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

The smell of breakfast soon had all the dwarves carrying platters of food from kitchen to dining room. Bilba and Gandalf joined them last with tea and coffee pots and jugs of milk. The hobbit was pleased to see the dwarves dug as heartily into breakfast as they had supper and soon the party of fifteen had consumed every morsel.

Once again the dwarves did the dishes, then were off to collect their belongings.

Bilba returned to her room to fetch her pack. She added an additional coat to the one she would be wearing along with her heavy winter cloak. They were going to a mountain after all.

“Ye ready to go lass?” Dwalin called.

“Only, everyone else is outside and Thorin is getting impatient,” Fili added.

“I'd wager that is a common state for him,” she sighed as she stepped out of her bedroom for what could be the last time.

She moved to the back entrance to make sure it was locked when to her surprise it opened.

There, opening her backdoor, was Willoughby Boffin.

Bilba screamed and tripped herself backing up.

Willoughby paled when he saw Dwalin, obviously having expected the intimidating dwarf to be long gone. Dwalin charged at him. Willoughby turned around and ran.

At the same time Bilba looked around for something to defend herself with and spotted the throwing axes in Fili's boot. Leaning over she pulled one out. He gave her a questioning glance.

Fili was confused, but pursued the older dwarf out the door. Bilba picked herself up and followed.

The chubby hobbit didn't get far.

The other dwarves followed the sound of a commotion to the scene near the other end of the smial. They found Dwalin dangling a squealing fat little hobbit by his collar. Fili stood behind the burly dwarf looking confused and behind him, Bilba was gripping one of Fili's throwing axes in her hand.

“What is going on here?” Thorin demanded.

“This is the _filth_ we told you about this morning. He dared to try and enter her home using the back way!” the fierce dwarf snarled shaking the halfling harshly.

“Dwalin, stop! Put him down!” Bilba shouted.

Dwalin stopped shaking him, but he punched the hobbit in the nose before dropping him to the ground.

Clutching a now broken nose with one hand, Willoughby moaned. Looking up at Bilba and spotting the pack on her back he exclaimed “You are leaving with these... these rock-eating dwarves?!”

All the dwarves took a menacing step towards him at that, hands on their weapons. He squawked and scrambled away from all the dwarves then stood and ran down the lane.

“Oh, bother. Now you've done it!” Bilba groaned.

“He shouldna' get away with hurting ye!” Dwalin declared.

“Just because he hurt me, does _not_ mean hurting him is the right thing to do. Violence is not always the answer. Don't get me wrong, if he tried to hurt me again I'd use this on him to defend myself,” she said waving Fili's axe then handing it back to its owner, “but punching people in the face is just not how things are done in the Shire. Now, let me lock up and we can get out of here. Hopefully before he brings back the sheriff.”

“Bilba, I put the letter to your grandfather on the mantle in the parlor,” Gandalf called.

Bilba nodded and headed back inside. She locked the back door then moved to the parlor. There she found two letters addressed to her grandfather. Picking up both of them and a small tea table she took them into the hall and placed the table in the center of the walkway and put the letters on top. She wanted to make sure it wasn't _too_ long before they were found. Grandfather would worry after all. Then she stepped outside and locked the front door.

“Let us be off then. The ponies are stabled at the Green Dragon,” Thorin said and they headed down the lane.

Bilba stopped at her neighbor's on the way. As expected, he was already out working in his garden.

“Mr. Gamgee, would you mind looking after Bag End for me? If there are any problems the Thain will handle it.”

“O' course, Mistress Baggins.” Accepting the key and eyeing the dwarves he asked, “Who put them bruises there? Are ya in some sort of trouble? Do ya need help?”

“Willoughby Boffin and I'd really rather he and the Sackville-Baggins' didn't have any access to my smial. He might be headed back there with the sheriff with boorish accusations.”

“Miss Baggins! Keep up!” Thorin's voice reached her.

“Sorry, Mr. Gamgee. Have to run!”

“Where are ya going?” Mr. Gamgee shouted.

“I'm going on an adventure!” she called back.

Fortunately for the company, Willoughby Boffin hadn't headed to the sheriff there in Hobbiton. If he had, they would have been stopped at the Green Dragon and it would have been days before any kind of understanding could be reached. Instead he had headed to the Great Smials in Tookland to see the Thain, and the company left the Shire unhindered.

 

oOoOoOo


	5. To Bree

oOoOoOo

 

"Smart of ye to grab a weapon from Fili, lass,” Dwalin said as they rode next to each other.

“How do you know he didn't give it to me?” Bilba questioned.

“Fili would have handed ye one of his knives, not a throwing axe. They can be tricky ta use. Knives are easier ta handle.”

“Oh. Sorry about taking your axe by the way,” she said to Fili. He and Kili were riding in front of them.

“That's alright,” he waved off her apology.

“Still, it seems like bad form to take a weapon that belongs to someone else.”

“In general, it is. Custom says you ask for a weapon if you are unarmed and a fellow warrior may have one to spare,” the blonde replied.

“Fili has lots to spare,” Kili interjected.

“And if you feel you need a weapon, I'd rather you take one from me than go without.”

“Here, you can carry this one!” Kili said taking a small dagger and its sheath off from his belt and handing it to her.

“Grabbing the axe was more instinct than anything else. The only thing I know about fighting is that the sharp end goes in the other guy. I don't know what to actually do with a weapon!”

“Then we'll just have ta teach ye how ta defend yerself,” Dwalin said.

“Really? Oh, thank you Master Dwalin!”

Fili, Kili, and Bofur burst out laughing. Most of the rest of the dwarves looked back in amusement.

“What is so funny?” asked Bilba.

Struggling to control his laughing long enough to speak Kili said, “Mister Dwalin doesn't like being called titles or the like. He's been known to knock people flat for it. Thinks they're superfluous flattery.”

Most of the company, including Thorin, gave Kili strange looks.

“What?” the young archer asked.

“I think that is the most complicated word I have ever heard come out of your mouth,” his uncle said.

“Hey, I'm not stupid! Studies are just boring. Especially maths,” Kili complained.

"What he means is he heard Mum use that phrase to describe Dwalin's aversion to titles.”

Everyone found that amusing, and for a few moments the only sounds were of soft merriment.

“Just a moment! You called him 'Mister Dwalin',” declared Bilba. “How is that any different?”

Fili and Kili grinned widely.

“Yes, well. They're little turds, and know I can't kill them 'cuz they're princes and Thorin's heirs. So, I just have to take out my ire on them in the practice ring.”

That made them drop their smiles.

“You are his heirs?” inquired the hobbit.

“Yes, we are his nephews; his sister's sons,” Fili supplied.

“Since uncle isn't married and doesn't have sons of his own, Fili, as the oldest, is next in line for the throne,” Kili said, patting his brother on the shoulder. “Poor guy!”

“What you are saying is Fili is the safest from everyone's wrath, including Thorin's, because if they kill him, your lot would get you as King.”

Fili smirked, Kili looked horrified, and the other dwarves shuddered.

“Uncle could always get married and father his own heir,” Fili said loudly to make sure Thorin, riding at the front, could hear him.

“He is not too old yet!” injected Kili just as loudly.

“Wouldn't it be nice, Kili, to have cousins?”

“You know, Fili, I do believe it would,” they continued their loud conversation to the amusement of everyone except Thorin, judging by his stiff posture.

“Think of all the things we could teach them. Khuzdul!” Fili said.

“Swear words!” followed his brother.

“Hair braiding!“

“How to look like you are paying attention in lesson, but really not!” Kili exclaimed.

“You haven't fooled anyone with that, lad,” Balin said. The brunette looked stunned.

“If I ever _do_ have offspring,  _you_ are not going to have access to them without supervision,” Thorin turned and gave them a stony look.

“You act like I'm not capable of anything!” Kili exclaimed.

“You are capable of many things. It is not your skill that is in question, but your maturity. Tell me, were profanity and slacking off really the first things that came to mind when thinking about teaching young impressionable minds?”

“Er...”

“That is what I thought.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

It was late afternoon when they entered Bree. Balin led them towards an inn named the Prancing Pony where they were planning on staying the night. Thorin had just started assigning duties regarding the ponies and supplies when Bilba spotted a face she hadn't seen in nearly ten years about to pass them on the street.

“Lily Proudfoot, is that you?”

“Bilba Baggins! I don't believe it. What are you doing in Bree?”

“It is most exciting. We are going to-”

“Halfling, there is no need to share the details of our business,” Thorin interrupted.

“You are traveling with dwarves?” the other hobbit raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, most of them are pleasant enough companions. But, what about you? It seemed like you disappeared from the Shire overnight. There were rumors you ran off and married one of the Big Folk.”

“That rumor is true.”

“Really?”

“Truly. We married seven years ago and we have two beautiful children. Would you like to come meet them?”

“I would love to! Ori, why don't you come along?” Bilba said, grabbing her arm and pulling her along.

Ori didn't try to resist. She would very much like to go meet the children and spend time with Bilba. The hobbit was very kind and didn't seem put off by her shyness. She turned a hopeful gaze back to her brothers. Neither looked approving.

“I'll go with them,” Dwalin offered.

“I need you to stay and help with procuring the supplies. Bifur, you go with them and make sure they stay out of trouble,” Thorin said.

“Nori, you go too.” Dori ordered. “And _stay_ with them.”

His brother gave him a dirty look as if to say 'I'm not stupid. I know to stay with our sister.'

 

oOoOoOo

 

Lily had a five year old son who was about the same height as his mother, and a three year old daughter who was the tiniest toddler the dwarves had ever seen. Bilba didn't seem alarmed, so they assumed it was normal. The children's paternal grandmother was there helping tend them.

Bilba and Lily had been apprehensive of the children's reaction to the odd dwarf. Surprisingly, Bifur was adept at overcoming the unnerving appearance his injury gave him when with little ones. Upon arriving, he had pulled a beautifully carved animal out of a bag at his side for each of them, and that was all it took for them to adore him.

Nori entertained them all with a bit of sleight of hand for a while.

They had sat and played with the children for a good long while before Lily's husband entered through the back door.

Without. A. Tunic.

He was sweaty and dirty and Bilba thought she might faint. She was pretty sure the dwarves could tell that from their amusement.

When he saw there were guests, he apologized and ducked back out the door, and re-entered wearing a dirty sleeveless shirt. Introductions were made and then it was time to leave.

Lily was giving Bilba a look she couldn't interpret. She wasn't sure what words she had exchanged with the other hobbit's husband but she thought she had covered the niceties. Still giving her that odd look, Lily told her family she was going to walk with them back to the Prancing Pony and might be gone for a bit.

When they arrived back at the inn, Lily went over to the bar to fetch Bilba a half pint. Meanwhile the others escorted her to where the rest of the company were waiting for dinner at a long table that looked to be several shorter tables pushed together. Her floored expression gave away that there was some sort of story to be had.

“What happened?” Thorin demanded.

Bifur uttered something in Khuzdul that didn't seem to enlighten anyone.

“I think da husband 'ad a bit o' an effect on da lass,” Nori snickered.

Just then Lily sat down next to Bilba and a serving hobbit woman sat across from her and slid a half pint into her hands.

“Drink it,” Lily told her.

Bilba was halfway through gulping her drink before she came back to herself.

When the other hobbits saw this they leaned in towards her and asked, “Well?”

“No hobbit is shaped like _that!_ None of them have those..” she trailed off.

“Those what?” one of the dwarves shouted down the table.

Blushing she voiced, _“Muscles!”_

The other two hobbits giggled.

“Go get a round of drinks for the entire table on me. We have to celebrate!” Lily told the serving hobbit, causing the dwarves to cheer.

“What're we celebratin'?” Bofur asked.

“Why, converting Bilba over to admiring a muscled male form! Most hobbits prefer a figure that is much more... round. And those few who don't tend to live here in Bree. My husband is a blacksmith,” Lily said turning back to Bilba. “You know, he has a younger brother who works with him. I could introduce you.”

“I-No. Thank you, but no. How does that even work with the size difference?!”

“Well-”

“NO!" Bilba quickly interrupted. "I do _not_ want details. That was a rhetorical question. I'm sure he is a wonderful husband and father, but no. The Big Folk are just not the right size for me.”

“Was that your first time seeing a male without his tunic?”

She nodded.

“Lovely view wasn't it?” Lily smirked.

“Do all blacksmiths have those kinds of muscles?” she asked a bit wide eyed, glancing at the dwarves for their response, knowing it was a common profession for their kind. She got nods and affirmative answers down the table.

“You'll get to see Uncle's muscles on this trip and then you can judge for yourself!” Kili said.

“Most of us can work metal some," explained Fili, "but he is the only one who is a Master blacksmith in our group.” 

“Maybe a nice dwarf blacksmith would suit you then," Lily grinned. "They aren't too tall for you, are they?”

Bilba went scarlet. Balin, Dwalin, and Ori were the only ones to notice that Thorin's cheeks seemed to be a bit pink, too.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Once they had retired to their room for the night Bilba plied Ori with questions about the other dwarves they were traveling with. They were sharing a room and the rooms surrounding theirs were occupied by the rest of the company members.

“So, Thorin is a blacksmith and king?”

“King-in-Exile, and all dwarves have some sort of craft no matter what trade or position they hold in the mountain. Some dwarves' trade and craft are one and the same, like mine, but some are like Thorin and Dwalin who have different occupations than their craft. Those who do usually work on commissions from their respective guild in their free time.”

“What is your craft?”

“I'm very lucky to be studying under Balin to be a scribe. One of my duties is to document our journey. I can also knit.”

“Oh, that is lovely. My father taught me to read and write, a little unusual to teach a daughter, but it worked out well enough for us. When he became too ill to physically go out and manage his estate, I could help him write letters giving directions for what he wanted done. Later on, I would sit and read him books. I can embroider, too.”

“And cook!”

“Cooking is considered a craft?”

“Yes, it is not considered the most prestigious craft, even though everyone does have to eat, and dwarves are fond of good food. Cooking is actually Bombur's trade and craft. He will probably try to convince you to share all your cooking secrets, including all the recipes you used to make dinner for us.”

“I will willing share everything except the Baggins family's secret recipes like the lemon-blackberry tarts recipe should he ask.”

“Thorin will be disappointed.”

“What about the rest of the company? What are their trades and crafts?”

“Fili is a leather worker. He made some of the leather armor he, his brother, and Thorin are wearing. It also helps him attach all his weapons to his gear. You've seen the axes on his boots. Custom made. Thorin made the axes and Fili did all the rest. I think Thorin made some of the other weapons too, come to think of it. Kili is a Fletcher."

“Handy that he can make his own arrows.”

“Mmhm. I heard that Balin used to be a captain of the guard back in Erebor, but gave that up to focus on aiding Thorin as an adviser along with being a scribe. He also assists with Fili's and Kili's lessons. Dwalin is a captain of the guard now. His chosen craft is stone masonry.”

“As in carving stone?”

“Yes. Oin is a healer and apothecary. Gloin is a banker and gem cutter. Bifur is a carpenter and toy maker. Bofur is a miner and helps out Bifur with whatever he needs. Dori is a tailor. The blue velvet tunic that Thorin wears over his armor – Dori made that,” she said proudly.

“I know the one you are speaking of. It _is_ lovely. What about Nori?”

“Nori's craft is actually weaving. He has very dexterous fingers so he can do most anything to do with threads or knotting. He doesn't like to sit still for long though,” Ori sighed. “You are going to find out sooner or later traveling with us so I'll go ahead and tell you. Just don't think too ill of him. His trade, if you want to call it that, is well... He is a thief.”

“Oh! Well... Nobody is perfect, I suppose. He is a good brother to you, yes?”

“Oh, yes! I wouldn't trade either of my brothers for anything!” Ori insisted.

“Then that is what is important.”

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Think nothing of it. Unless he stole something from Bag End, of course. Then I will have to come up with a fitting punishment.”

They both laughed.

“You'd better steel yourself for seeing a lot more bare chests on this journey. We are actually going to see them all naked at some point,” Ori warned as they lay in their beds. “Dwarven males aren't shy about such things. In fact, it is encouraged for them to show off their body doing all sorts of things with their tunics off, hoping to attract a wife. You know, showing how strong they are and that they can defend a family. I've seen Thorin practice sparing several times. His muscles are even more defined than those of the Man we met today. Maybe that is because Thorin is both blacksmith and warrior.”

Bilba gulped. “He'll still open his mouth and ruin the view, no matter how lovely his muscles may be.” She was glad it was dark, so her blush was hidden. Even if it was just Ori. “What about you? Are you looking forward to the view of anyone particular?”

“Well, if you are talking about just enjoying the view, Fili and Kili are very nice to look at, but they can be very immature so I'm not interested in them beyond that.”

“What about more than enjoying the view? Is there a special dwarf somewhere?”

“Don't tell my brothers, but my eye has always been drawn to Dwalin ever since the first time I saw him sparring with Thorin.”

“Why wouldn't your brothers like that?”

“Because he is here on the quest and they would never give me a moment to myself in fear that I might spend it letting him seduce me or something.”

“Yes, I suppose that would make it difficult to get to know Dwalin better. Maybe I can help.”

“That's alright. I don't think he'd be interested in me. He is a great warrior, and I'm a scribe,” she sighed.

“Do you know for certain he is not interested?”

“Well, no but-”

“Then you should at least try to get to know him. Even if he isn't interested in you like that, you could make a friend.”

“Maybe you are right. I'll think about it. Good night.”

“Good night.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

Thorin lay in his bed staring at the ceiling in the dark.

The hobbit apparently, unlike many of her kind, liked the sight of muscles. Had already enjoyed the sight of a _blacksmith's_ muscles. She knew, thanks to his nephews that _he_ was a blacksmith. If she reacted the same way to seeing his muscles as she had to that  _Man's,_ he'd-

He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. _'Mahal have mercy on him!  She was such a distraction!’_

It took a long time for Thorin to fall asleep.

 

oOoOoOo


	6. Meanwhile Back in the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen back in the Shire.

oOoOoOo

 

“Your Grace, Bilba has been kidnapped by a group of dwarves!” Willoughby Boffin burst in on the Thain in his office.

 _“WHAT?”_ the Thain shouted.

“They took her from her home this morning. I tried to stop them, but they attacked me. Look what they did to my face!” he said gesturing to his deformed and very bloody nose.

“Isengrim, get the horse and cart ready!” the Thain shouted to his eldest son. “Do you know where they were headed?” he then asked Boffin.

“No.”

“Did you see which way they went?”

“No.”

“Then we will have to start at Bag End and hope we can find some clue or trail to follow.”

Gerontius Took, Thain of the Shire, drove his pony cart to Bag End. Beside him sat his beloved wife Adamanta, and six of his eight sons rode in the back. Three of them hopped out in the Hobbiton markets to ask around if anyone there had seen what had happened to Bilba, while the cart proceeded up the lane to Bag End. Upon arriving they found Mr. Gamgee tending the front garden.

“Well, hello there, Yer Grace. Didna' think I'd see ya here so soon. Yer granddaughter asked me ter look after Bag End while she were gone.”

“You've seen her? When?”

“Oh, 'twere early this mornin'. Brought me her key, then she was off with a group o' what looked like dwarves and a Man.”

“How was she? Was she alright?”

“She had a bruise on her cheek. I asked her about it and she said Willoughby Boffin put it there. Said she wasn't in any trouble though.”

_Willoughby put a bruise on her cheek?_

“She went with them willingly? No force? They didn't try to stop her from talking with you?”

“Nope, in fact I'd say Miss Bilba looked excited. They didn't try to make her go. One of them did yell back at her ta keep up, but that were it.”

“Did she say where they were going?"

“Asked her where she were goin', I did, and 'on an adventure' was all she said! I know it's not my place ta question Miss Bilba's doin's, so I just agreed ta look after the place. She did ask me ta keep Mr. Willoughby and the Sackville-Baggins' away if I could though, and ta come ta ya if I had any problems.”

“Which way did they go?”

“Took da lane down in ta Hobbiton.”

“Thank you, Master Gamgee, for all the hard work you have done for Bilba and her father. I'm glad it will continue while she is away.”

“Thank ya, Yer Grace. It has always been a pleasure to help them.”

To his family, “I'm sure Bilba would have written a note if she went willingly. Let us go inside and see if we can find one."

They found not one but two letters on a table set in the middle of the hallway. Both of them were addressed to the Thain in handwriting he recognized. He took them into the parlor.

Sitting in the armchair he held one letter in each hand. Which one should he read first? The one from the wizard who wouldn't have been involved in something like this without good reason and whose actions shouldn't be taken lightly? Or the one from his beloved granddaughter? He figured in this he was a grandfather first and put down the wizard's letter.

 

_Dear Grandfather,_

_I am sorry, I can not go through with a marriage to Willoughby Boffin. I do not love him and his behavior towards me has left me in doubt of my safety with him. He seemed to think our “betrothal” entitled to certain liberties. One of Gandalf's dwarven companions arrived in time to prevent him from doing as much as I fear he was going to, but I am afraid that you may feel a marriage still necessary, so I can not stay._

_As much as it pains me to admit it, I'd rather Bag End and the entire estate go to the Sackville-Baggins' than to have such a husband. I won't marry just to keep a smial that has lacked the warmth a home should have since the passing of both my parents. I want a husband I can care for, one I can respect and will grant me such in return. No one in the Shire fits those requirements. Gandalf has offered me an adventure and I have decided to accept his offer. Maybe somewhere out in the world I will find someone to love. Perhaps I may even find him within the allotted year so that the Sackville-Baggins don't get the home my father built to show his devotion to your beloved daughter._

_There will be dangers on this journey. If I survive, I will find a way to send word to you, no matter what I decide to do otherwise. Maybe one day I will return to the Shire if I am welcome._

_In case this is my last time to tell you, Grandmother, and the rest of the family, I want you to know that I love you and will miss you._

_Forgive me. Goodbye._

_Your loving granddaughter,  
Bilba_

 

Gerontius Took was devastated. His beloved Bilba had been hurt and instead of feeling she could turn to him for help and protection, she feared he would make her marry her attacker and suffer more! _He had failed her._

Both he and her father had wronged Bilba. They should have never tried to take away her choice, no matter that they thought they were doing what was best for her. He had chosen Willoughby because he thought the lad would take care of his granddaughter like the princess she was in all but actual title. Instead he had taken advantage of that trust.

The thought turned some of his anguish into anger. That trout-faced tater-head had _hurt_ his Bilba and then run to him and _lied_. He would _pay for it._ With that resolve, he had calmed enough to open the letter from Gandalf.

 

_My Dear Friend,_

_I hope you can forgive me for absconding with your favorite granddaughter. I offered to take her on an adventure and she agreed. More willingly than I'm sure she would have were she not being forced into marriage._

_I do not know if Bilba mentioned it in her letter to you, but I feel you should get an account from this side of events. One of the group we will be traveling with arrived at Bag End to find Willoughby Boffin forcibly holding Bilba against a wall. He was kissing and running his hands over her clothed body. She was fighting back._

_I know reputations have been irreparably damaged by less in the Shire. I will not risk such a remarkable spirit like Bilba's to be broken by the brute and can not take the chance that you will proceed with the marriage perhaps thinking it would be in her best interest._

_I will look after her as best I can, as will, I'm sure, our traveling companions. No one can guarantee her safety though. For that, I must again apologize. Bilba knows there will be danger involved, but I hope once our task is complete the two of you will reconcile. She loves you very dearly._

_Hopefully still your Friend,  
Gandalf the Grey_

 

The rage had returned full force. His wife looked on in concern. He gathered his family to leave. Helping his wife onto the front seat he told one of his sons to drive the cart back to the market to pick up the other sons, and then climbed into the back. They could all tell he was furious, but any attempt to gain information was rebuffed. He had too much to think about, too much to plan.

“What did you find out?” the Thain asked his other boys when they picked them up.

“It doesn't sound like what Mr. Willoughby told you, Da. Bilba walked to the Green Dragon with a group of dwarves and Mr. Gandalf. They got on ponies, or in Gandalf's case a splendid white horse, and rode off down the road towards Bree. No one thought she looked like she was in any sort of danger. They thought she looked happy.”

“That matches Mr. Gamgee's account of his interaction with Bilba this morning.”

“What is going on and what do we do now?” asked his wife.

“First, we will return home. The rest I will think about.” A certain trout-faced tater-head had remained there to get his wounded face attended to.

The Thain reread his letters many times on the ride back to the Great Smials.

Upon arriving he told one of his sons to go fetch the sheriff of Tookland. All eyes widened but he was quickly obeyed.

 

oOoOoOo 

 

“How are you feeling Willoughby?” Gerontius asked after he entered the room given to the injured hobbit for rest.

“Awful, to be honest. Having this fixed,” he said pointing to his nose, “hurt nearly as much as it did when it was broken.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” the Thain said honestly. He wished it had hurt more. “We didn't find what we were hoping for in Hobbiton, but we will continue to look for Bilba. Are you up to telling the sheriff your story?”

“Of course, Your Grace. Anything to find Bilba.”

“Good, come to my office.” Once the three hobbits were seated in there, Willoughby recounted the same story he'd told the Thain earlier.

“This is worrisome,” the sheriff said. “What has been done to find her?”

“I took my wife and some of my sons to Hobbiton. Three of them asked around the market for news of Bilba while the rest of us continued up to Bag End. We spoke to Mr. Gamgee there, then entered. Inside we found two letters addressed to me. One from Bilba and one from Gandalf the Grey. Neither the letters nor the accounts we received from Mr. Gamgee or others in the market match Mr. Willoughby's story.” Turning to said hobbit he continued, “In fact, the letters describe an _attack_ you made on _my granddaughter_. What have you to say in your defense?”

“Attack! There was no such thing! I showed her affection! Bilba is mine!”

“No, she isn't and she never will be! Lock him up for now,” he told the sheriff. “He will remain in your custody until we can hold a trial.”

“No! You can't do this! SHE IS MINE!” Willoughby shoved off the sheriff and threw himself at the Thain. He got two blows in before the sheriff tackled him to the floor and sat on him, but two blows from a young healthy hobbit could do significant damage to an elderly hobbit like Old Took. One was to his gut and the other to the side of his head.

Before he lost consciousness the Thain told the sheriff, “Send someone to Bree to look for Bilba. Tell her... she is safe. She won't ever have to... marry him.”

 

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the kudos and feedback! I didn't expect to see so much interest. You are all wonderful!
> 
> This chapter is one of the reasons I wanted Old Took alive. I thought it would make more sense for this to be done by a loving (if a little misguided) grandfather than a doting uncle.


	7. Meanwhile Back in the Shire part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thain wakes up, there are plans made, a trial held and great change made in the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Willoughby's dark obsessive thoughts.

oOoOoOo

 

It was three days before Gerontius Took regained consciousness.

“Bilba?” was the first thing he asked.

“The sheriff sent two of his own sons to Bree to look for her. They haven't returned yet,” his wife, Adamanta, informed him tearfully. She was overjoyed to see him awake again.

“Willoughby Boffin?”

“Still in custody. Everyone wanted to wait for you to be well enough to preside over the trial yourself.”

The Thain nodded and squeezed her hand, “Inform all the Heads of Family, sheriffs, and mayors there will be a full court trial when I am well enough, if they haven't been already.” Then he slipped back to sleep, but this one was a more natural and restful one.

Adamanta held her husband's hand to her cheek for a few minutes before going to share with with their family the good news and pass on his directions.

 

oOoOoOo

 

The sheriff met with the Thain in his bedroom the next day. Though he was still in bed, he was propped up on the pillows and his mind was awake and alert. His wife sat on the bed next to him, and the sheriff took a seat on a chair near by.

“All the necessary people have been informed of the upcoming trial. They just await for you to set a date, Your Grace.”

“Good. I hope to hold it in a week, my health permitting.”

The sheriff looked uncomfortable for a moment. “There is something else, Your Grace. Willoughby Boffin's father has asked to speak with his son in private. He has also been asking about the charges his son faces in the trial. None of it has been shared because we do not know what charges you want him to face other than his attack on you.”

It was only now the the Thain remembered he had not shared most of the contents of the letters with anyone. “The formal charges are: two counts of violence against a fellow hobbit, violence against a female with intent to compromise her virtue, and deception to hide his actions.”

Both his wife and the sheriff gasped and wore identical expressions of horror.

“Now that you know, you can announce the charges. Mr. Boffin may see his son, but Willoughby stays in that cell. Now, there were two letters on the desk in my office that have accounts of the attack on Bilba. Bring them to me.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

The sheriff's sons returned later that day. Without Bilba.

“We're sorry, Your Grace, but Miss Bilba and the group she was traveling with left Bree the day before we got there,” one lad said.

The other continued, “We asked around for information. She spent some time with Lily Proudfoot. She said Miss Bilba was in good spirits and didn't seem to be there by force. Even said she seemed to be friends with some of the dwarves, though one of them told Miss Bilba not to talk about their business to anyone.”

“That supports what was written in Bilba's letter, but we still do not know where they are headed,” the elderly hobbit sighed.

“We are sorry, Your Grace.” They both looked down at their feet, ashamed.

“No, you did well. You have my gratitude. Go rest and recover from your trip.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” They bowed and left followed by their father.

The Thain sighed heavily. “How do we find her now? How can I make amends if she is not here?”

“I'm sure you will think of something you can do that would show Bilba you are sorry for the part you played in her regrettable situation that doesn't require her presence. She must have been scared. I wonder how many other daughters and granddaughters have faced such fears,” Adamanta said.

Gerontius looked intently at his wife. After so many years together he knew what is was she was thinking and what she hadn't said (couldn't say). Could he do that? There would be protests. If he handled it just right, he might even be able to make a few of the more stuffy and traditional hobbits faint! He smiled. Was he not the Thain? Was it not his responsibility to do what was right despite opposition, if it was the best for his people?

Adamanta looked thoughtful then said, “Perhaps one of the Rangers would be willing to search for her.” She lay down next to him and he took her in his arms. When she rested her head on his shoulder he kissed her forehead and ran his hand gently through her white curls.

“My dear wife, you are brilliant. You have been beyond the finest partner I could have ever dreamed of having at my side all these years. I am a better Thain and hobbit because of you. Though the Twilight of Life is upon us, each moment with you is a joy, and so many years together has been a treasure. Thank you for marrying me.”

“There is no one I would rather have spent my life with or have had as the father of my children, My Love.”

They lay together like that for so long Adamanta thought her husband had fallen back to sleep, but when she moved he spoke.

“Send for my scribe, Dear Heart. I have much to do.”

When the scribe arrived, instead of waiting for Adamanta to excuse herself as she usually did so they could conduct their business, her husband stopped her.

“Stay,” he said. “I want you to be a part of this.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

Willoughby Boffin's trial was held a week later in the great hall of the Great Smials.

A full court trial in the Shire required the attendance of all the Heads of Family, every sheriff and every mayor. This group formed a sort of jury. Though the Thain held the final say on judgment, the jury suggested punishments they felt fit the offense.

The great hall was full of many more hobbits who came to witness the rare occurrence of a full court trial.

“Willoughby Boffin, you are charged with two counts of violence against a fellow hobbit, violence against a female with intent to compromise her virtue, and deception to hide your actions,” stated the Thain from his chair. “What is your response to these charges?”

“This is ridiculous!” he shouted.

“I have in my possession two letters, one from Bilba Baggins and one from the wizard Gandalf the Grey, in whose integrity I have the utmost trust in. Both mention an attack you made against Bilba. Do you deny this attack took place?”

“Of course I do. I was merely showing Bilba the affection I am entitled to as her betrothed.”

The Thain proceeded to read both letters out loud. “You were not betrothed. There was never any official agreement, and you were _entitled_ to NOTHING!” he bellowed.

“Bilba is MINE! We were meant to be together! The combination of her father's fine estate, her excellent cooking, and her beauty are unmatched by any other lass in the Shire and compliment me perfectly, or will when she learns her place!”

This caused gasps and muttering to fill the hall. It was such an un-hobbit thing to think! They'd all thought Willoughby loved Bilba, not her father's estate! Though Bag End was the finest smial in Hobbiton and the estate held extensive farms on the outskirts of the village, such greedy thoughts were just not right and certainly no reason to marry!

“You came to me and told me that Bilba had been abducted by a group of dwarves, one of whom, I would guess, was the one that saved my granddaughter from your 'affections.' After investigating your claim and finding it false I confronted you in the presence of the Sheriff of Tookland. When I told you that you would never marry my granddaughter, you attacked _me_.”

“You deserve it for trying to keep Bilba from me!” Willoughby said and he tried to charge at the Thain. Four of his sons stopped the enraged hobbit and forced him into a chair.

“You should be grateful it was the dwarf that caught you, not Gandalf. He would have turned you into something unnatural,” the Thain sneered.

Mr. Gamgee, the sheriff's two sons, and witnesses to Bilba's departure with the dwarves were brought forward to tell what they knew.

“Does anyone have anything to say in Mr. Willoughby's defense?” the Thain asked.

It was silent except for the sobbing of Willoughby's mother.

“Jury, have you any questions?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“All those who agree with my judgment of guilty say 'Aye'.”

There were many.

“All those who oppose say 'Nay'.”

Nothing.

“Guilty has it. Jury, you may deliberate on suggestions for punishment in the next room for one hour.”

They departed and the rest of the hall settled in to wait.

When the time was up, the jury re-entered the hall and took their places.

“What are your suggestions for punishment for Willoughby Boffin's crimes.”

One by one, each member shared their recommendation.

“Shaved feet and banishment,” was stated over and over again until it was finally the turn for the last member: the Head of the Boffin's family and Willoughby's father.

Mr. Boffin thought back on his private conversation with his son, how he'd spouted nonsense like he had in the trial today. Where had they gone wrong? What could have turned his son into _this_? Tears rolled down his cheeks and his voice shook as he said, “Shaved feet and banishment.”

Mrs. Boffin began to wail.

“So be it. From this day Willoughby Boffin is banished from the Shire, never to return on pain of death. He is condemned by his own actions, but other things contributed to the difficult situation my granddaughter, Bilba, found herself in. We are none of us guiltless, certainly not I, since I hold the power to change at least one of those things.

“By Official Decree, on this day I, Gerontius Took Thain of the Shire, declare females equal to males of the Shire. They shall have all the rights and privileges entitled to male heirs including, but not limited to: owning property, controlling finances, holding government offices, and being masters of their own persons.”

There were shouts of outrage, but they were nothing to the cheers that went up from many women in the hall. Mrs. Boffin had even stopped her wailing in shock. Others had tears beginning to pour down their cheeks. From the hard thumps on the floor, the Thain figured he had been successful in making a few hobbits faint. Whether it was from fury, shock, or joy would no doubt depend on the individual. Either way he was privately amused.

“For so long we males have thought we were protecting our females from a harsher life, when we were in fact oppressing them. We should not deny them the opportunity to challenge themselves and grow as individuals. Our daughters and granddaughters deserve to choose the kind of life they wish to lead as much as our sons and grandsons do. They are our loved ones, not pretty birds to be kept in a cage.”

There were many nods in the crowd, male and female. Overall, it was a positive reaction. If this decree was the only thing remembered from his time as Thain, he'd be content.

 

oOoOoOo

 

It took six hobbits to pin Willoughby down so his feet could be shaved. Twenty accompanied him to his family's home where he was allowed to pack a bag of personal items. Then he was escorted to the border of the Shire.

Willoughby was furious. Bilba Baggins would _pay_ for this! He would make her regret casting him aside. She would come back this way and he'd be waiting. He would still see her in his bed at his mercy and he would _make_ her give him beautiful children. If she begged for it prettily enough, he might even still marry her. One day. Maybe. Oh, her screams would be beautiful. He would spend a long time imagining them.

Willoughby Boffin had become Bree's problem.

 

oOoOoOo


	8. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company leaves Bree and is on their way. Bilba starts forming friendships with some of the dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books dinner and supper are two words used for the same meal, so it's actually six meals a day, not seven, but I did add the late night snack to kind of make up for it.
> 
> Nori's speech was fun to write. I hope you can understand what he is trying to say. In my head cannon he knows how to speak properly, but he is in the habit of speaking the way he does because he spends a lot of time slumming.

oOoOoOo

 

The company departed from Bree by the East Gate around the time for second breakfast. Thorin and Balin were leading followed by Oin, Gloin, Bofur and Bombur. Bilba rode next to Ori with Fili and Kili in front of them and Dori and Nori behind. Dwalin, Bifur, and Gandalf brought up the rear.

Bilba couldn’t help looking longingly back at Bree.

“What is the hold up, Burglar?” Thorin groused.

Of course _he’d_ noticed her dawdling!

“I’m mourning the loss of second breakfast,” she sighed.

“Second breakfast? Ya mean hobbits eat breakfast _twice_ a day?” demanded Dwalin.

“Mhmm, and then there is elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, supper and often a late night snack,” the hobbit informed them.

Bombur looked pleased at the idea.

“We are _not_ stopping that often to eat,” Thorin proclaimed.

“I figured as much," Bilba sighed. "That is why I was mourning the loss.”

“Six, sometimes seven, meals a day, eh? Sounds like da hobbits know a proper eatin’ schejule when dey see it!” Nori laughed.

“Yes, meals should be plentiful and frequent, but they’ll be neither on the road,” his brother lamentably agreed.

“No wonder ye are such a good cook, lass, with so many meals ta make a day,” Bofur grinned.

As Ori had warned her, Bombur asked about her cooking techniques and recipes. They drew Thorin’s attention when the round dwarf mentioned the blackberry tart recipe. Both had looked a little disappointed when she said she wouldn’t share it, but Thorin hid his quickly by turning to face forward again.

“Would you be interested in helping me cook while we travel together, Miss Bilba? I would love to learn from you,” Bombur asked. He seemed to be nearly as sweet and soft spoken as Ori.

“Of course I’ll help, Master Bombur, though I don’t know how much assistance I will be. I’ve never cooked on the road before. Maybe you can teach me in turn!” Bilba smiled at him.

She received a big smile in return. “Just Bombur, and I’d like that a lot.”

“Just Bilba, then.”

Fili, Kili, and Bofur were very chatty, very often able to talk for a good long while without really saying anything about anything. It was a very nice way to spend the time and it took a bit of her attention away from the fact she was riding on a pony. No offense meant to the pony of course. 

 

oOoOoOo

 

They stopped for a rest and a quick lunch shortly after midday. Bilba sat on a rock just off the road. Fili and Kili lounged in the grass in front of her. Thorin came over to join his nephews. Removing his fur lined leather coat, he lay it out on the ground and sat on it. Since he was so close, she took the opportunity to inspect Dori’s work.

“Do you need something, Halfling?” Thorin asked.

Instead of answering him she turned to the other dwarf. “Master Dori, your sister told me you made Thorin’s velvet outer tunic.”

“That I did, Miss Bilba,” he grinned. “One of my best pieces.”

She turned back to inspecting said piece. Knowing it was annoying Thorin to be so dismissed made her smile just a little bit.

“It is _quite_ lovely,” she praised the tailor.

Carefully Bilba touched the edge of one of the shoulders of the sleeveless tunic where it stood out above Thorin’s arm. She didn’t know how he would react to her touching him, even if it was just his clothes. He just sat there and let her continue her inspection though.

“The cut and stitching is very fine. And the fabric is _gorgeous!_ I wish I’d had you and fabric this luxurious around when it was time to make the party dress for my Coming of Age celebration.”

Dori beamed, “Thank you for your kind words. It is always an honor to hear one’s craft praised. Nori actually made the fabric.”

Attention moved to the thief who shrugged. “Made dat years ago. Decided ta make it blue so he wouldna’ used it all up on his own self. A weakness fer purple he has, ya see, an’ dey was da only colors I had ta work wiff at da time.”

“The best material available in the Shire has always come from the dwarven trading caravans but this is finer than anything I’ve seen in the markets be it blue, purple, or any other color.”

“It is very fine indeed. I knew when I saw it that fabric would have to be used for something special,” Dori said.

“So you used it to make a tunic for your king.”

“King-in-Exile,” several dwarves corrected her.

“I’ve heard you refer to Thorin as that on several occasions now. What is the difference between a king and a king-in-exile?”

“A coronation mostly,” Thorin responded turning his head to look at her. Bilba got lost for a moment in his intense light blue eyes. Only now did she realize how close she had leaned towards him and that she was still fingering his tunic. Blushing, she let go and sat up. Thorin’s cheeks were a little pink as well.

“Thorin is king, no one denies that it is his right, but he has never been crowned. A coronation ceremony can only be held in the king's own halls, so he can not have one until he reclaims the Lonely Mountain,” Balin explained hiding a smile at the little ‘moment’ that had just occurred.

 _‘Looks like the attraction is mutual. Good,’_ he nodded to himself.

“He could claim Ered Luin as his kingdom and have a coronation there, but that would mean giving up on Erebor,” Fili related.

“Even though everyone already calls the settlement in Ered Luin ‘Thorin’s Halls’,” added Kili.

“ _I_ did not name them that!” Thorin protested.

“Everyone _except_ Uncle,” Kili corrected.

“That is what someone started calling it and it stuck. It does not feel appropriate for it to be named after me when the operation was begun by my father.”

“It was out of respect for you, laddie. For all you have done to help us build new lives in the Blue Mountains,” Balin consoled him.

“I am aware of that.”

“But Thorin is your king, yes?” Bilba asked looking around at the other dwarves. “He performs all the duties of the king and your people respect and follow his rule?”

“Oh, yes. Uncle is very well respected! I hope I can be half the king he is,” Fili said. Thorin gave him an affectionate look and would have spoken had Fili not looked slyly at his uncle and continued, “If it comes to that anyways. I’m still hoping he will have a son of his own.”

Thorin’s expression turned a little stony. Bilba thought he was holding himself back from rolling his eyes. Surely such an action would just not be regal enough for him.

Soon the company soon remounted and started down the road. Ori was once again riding beside her.

“Thank you,” Ori said looking a little adoringly at Bilba.

“Whatever for?” Bilba asked bewildered. 

“Your compliments to my brothers.”

“They deserve them. Though I’m surprised Thorin didn’t brush my hand away when I touched his tunic,” Bilba said softly to Ori.

“Oh, he wouldn’t have done _that!_ Not when he knew you were inspecting the craftsmanship. That would have been an insult to Dori and Nori! We take our crafts very seriously.”

“I didn’t offend anyone did I?” worried Bilba.

“Oh, no! Quite the opposite! You drew everyone’s attention to the tunic, inspected it, then praised its craftsmanship in front of those who hold prestigious positions in the mountain, including Thorin, with the two craftsmen present. That is the highest compliment you could have given my brothers.”

“I don’t understand. It’s Thorin’s tunic. I’m sure he is aware of its quality.”

“Yes, but the higher in rank the person or persons you say it in front of, the higher the praise is. Most of the members of the company hold important positions, and you can’t get any higher than Thorin, obviously,” Ori said.

“It was very well done, my dear, especially since you are not a dwarf,” Gandalf said from her other side. “The way you also praised dwarven craftsmanship made it a compliment to Thorin, as their ruler, along with dwarves in general as well.”

“Miss Bilba, if ya could ‘ave material like dat, wha’ color’d ya choose?” Nori inquired.

“That is a tough question to answer, Master Nori! I love so many colors. Hmm,” she said consideringly. “Fabric that fine I would use for a party dress so I think I would choose an amber color. I’m told it brings out the gold in my hair.”

Nori nodded thoughtfully then said, “Just Nori, Miss Bilba.”

“Then it’s just Bilba. You too, Master Dori.”

“Only if you will return the favor.”

They exchanged smiles. Bilba didn’t know she had just formed strong friendships with the two brothers and impressed the others.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Bilba got a bit more insight into Thorin’s leadership with the story Balin told that night. A story about a great battle they had fought outside the dwarf realm of Moria that had cost the lives of Thorin’s grandfather and younger brother, and left the fate of his father unknown. How a young prince had restored his warriors' moral, led the charge back to re-engage the enemy and win, even with their devastating losses.

 _‘There is one I could follow. There is one I could call king!’_ Balin had said.

By the end of the telling nearly everyone in camp, even those who had been dozing, were on their feet and watching Thorin with respect and awe in their eyes. Bilba was sure they had probably heard the story in one form or another before, but it must be different hearing it from someone who had witnessed it happening and have the hero of the story right there.

Bilba learned that ‘Oakenshield’ was not a surname, but a deed name earned in that battle. Thorin had been young, but he fought a terrible foe and had had to shoulder becoming King-in-Exile after it was over.

He was a good leader, most of the time anyways the hobbit thought, but if he could move beyond his pride and bitterness she knew he could be a _great_ leader. The potential was there. Could she help him with that? She’d have to befriend the arrogant clot head. Maybe she would work on the pride problem first. If her sass didn’t push him over the edge into killing her, then he might be worth befriending.

“Uncle became King-in-Exile when he was only fifty-three. Can you imagine that? Fifty-three! Not even an adult and having to take on all that boring, headache-causing torment! I don’t envy Uncle that one bit,” Kili declared.

“When _do_ dwarves come of age?” asked Bilba.

“Coming of Age and adulthood refer to two different things in dwarven culture,” Balin explained. “There are three major age milestones for us. The first is called ‘Battle Ready.’ This is when we became tall and strong enough to wield a full sized weapon and usually occurs by age thirty. When we are Battle Ready we could go to war if needed.”

“Uncle was twenty when he became Battle Ready, and Gloin was only nineteen!” Kili burst out.

“The second milestone is called ‘Coming of Age.’ Not to be confused with adulthood, Coming of Age is when we _look_ of age, look how we would look for the majority of our lives. This usually occurs between age thirty and forty. We mature physically much quicker than mentally. Adulthood is the third milestone. This is when we are actually considered adults, and is reached at age sixty-five.”

“Sixty-five!” Bilba exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Ori. “When do hobbits become adults?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Thirty-three!” Kili said astonished.

Fili gave her an evaluating look. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

 _“Thirty-five?!”_ Thorin growled at Gandalf. “She is practically a child!”

“She is an adult by the standards of her race. Hobbits and dwarves lifespans differ so it is understandable for them to mature at different rates. Your nephews may be older in years than Bilba, but she is the more mature of the three.”

“That doesn't seem too difficult,” Gloin judged.

“How much do they differ?” asked Ori.

“Average lifespan for a hobbit is about one-hundred, for a dwarf about two-hundred fifty.”

“Oh,” Ori said.

Nodding Gandalf continued, “But that figure is also based off the years past dwarves have actually lived. It would be higher but you lot tend to die in battle more than from old age, especially the royal lines.”

“Why especially the royal lines?” Bilba questioned.

“It is common for rulers to direct their troops from behind, but this is not the way of the dwarves,” the wizard imparted. “They lead from the front. Their kings are the first into battle and, barring serious injury or death, they are the last to leave it.”

“I can not ask something of my warriors that I am not willing to do,” Thorin insisted.

“When Smaug attacked Erebor’s main gate Thorin and his father were the ones that led the guards to defend it," Balin told Bilba. "They stood before the first line of guards as the dragon smashed his way in.”

The hobbit looked between him and the King in shock. “Weren’t you a _child?”_

Raising his chin proudly Thorin said, “I was Battle Ready. Now get some rest. All of you.”

They were all settled down on their bedrolls when the youngest of the line of Durin let out a laugh.

“I just realized something,” Kili said smiling. “I’m not the youngest in the company!”

 

oOoOoOo


	9. On the Road (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling, talking, and trolls. Oh, my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I HAVE been writing. I submit the longest chapter so far (by a lot!) as proof. I have also been working on some visuals like Thorin's tattoos among others. 
> 
> Why, Tolkien, why? Why did you make the standard blacksmith image of hammer and anvil the emblem of Durin?! I have struggled coming up with something else to use for Thorin's blacksmith mastery tattoo.

oOoOoOo

 

It began pouring rain a few days out from Bree. Everyone pulled out their cloaks in an attempt to keep dry. Bilba’s was meant more for cold weather than rain, so it was heavy and hot, but it kept her a little more dry than she would have been without it. For a time anyways. It rained and rained until everything was soaked clear through.

Dori tried to convince Gandalf to use magic to stop the rain. His refusal lead to Bilba learning that there were other wizards wandering around.

When they woke up one morning to find the clouds had moved away and the sun was shining Thorin called for a rest day so they could start drying things out. This was met with approval all around. Bags were unpacked and many things were hung over low branches in the trees.

Bilba and Ori went further into the trees to change into slightly dryer things from their bags. They both left off more layers than normal. Bilba didn’t put on trousers or bodice, just the skirt and blouse. Then they returned to the group to hang everything up. Bilba was a little embarrassed to have her underthings out in plain sight of so many males, but she would rather that than wear them wet.

When the other dwarves started stripping even their long underwear, Bilba made for the other side of the tree and refused to come back as long as any of them were indecent. She sat with her back to the tree mostly out of sight. Ori giggled and sat to her right facing the other way to keep the camp in full view.

“I told you we would get a chance to see them naked,” she said grinning. “Are you sure you don’t want to inspect their muscles yourself? Compare Thorin’s muscles to that blacksmith’s? They really are quite nice. Lovely backside, too.”

“As nice as Dwalin’s?” even blushing furiously Bilba couldn’t help teasing her friend a bit.

“No one’s is as nice as Dwalin’s,” she sighed a little dreamily.

“Let me know when they all are covered up again.”

“I wish you would look. It would be more fun to giggle over them together if you actually saw them.”

“No. Thank you, but no. I think I gave you all enough to laugh about with my reaction to Lily’s husband. I don’t think I need to make any more of a fool of myself when I still have to travel with all of you for a good long while yet!”

There was a sound on her left and Ori gasped. Instinct had her looking to see what had made it.

There stood Fili and Kili, each in just a pair of trousers. She vaguely noticed that they didn’t even have their boots on.

_‘Ori was right,’_ her mind supplied. _‘They_ were _very nice to look at.’_

Smooth skin and a small amount of chest hair covered nice muscles. Each had the same tattoo in the left side of their chests, more on their left arm, and their pretty faces wore big grins. It was the grins that eventually brought her out of her stupor and awoke the anger in her. There were a couple of pine cones near her hands. She picked them up and threw them, hitting both brothers on the forehead.

“Oi!” Fili shouted. “What was that for?”

“You knew I was over here because you lot aren’t properly dressed, but you came over here anyways!”

“Are we not as pretty as that Man you saw?” Kili pouted.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Bilba said, indignant. 

“So, we are prettier?” asked Fili.

A tunic was thrown in each of their faces.

“Put them on,” their uncle growled.

“But they’re still damp!” complained Kili.

“Do it!”

As they complied Thorin stepped into Bilba’s view. She was relieved and somehow disappointed to see that he was dressed in trousers and tunic, though, like his nephews, was sans boots.

Thorin fisted a hand in each nephew’s tunic and lifted until their feet left the ground.

“It is the hobbit’s choice whether to look or not and you disrespected it. Your mother would box in your ears if she were here. I am disappointed in your behavior. Now apologize.”

“Sorry, Bilba,” they said in unison.

The King-in-Exile then turned and carried his errant nephews back into camp, each with feet still dangling in the air.

“I’m sorry," Ori apologized. "I didn’t know they were going to do that or I would have warned you. All of the company has at least put on trousers now, though.”

Bilba swallowed loudly. “He picked them up one handed.”

“Huh?”

Letting herself slip sideways she landed on the ground on her back with her bent arms framing her head. She stared up at the sky without seeing it. “Thorin,” Bilba said sounding a little dazed. “He picked a nephew up in each hand and _carried_ them off!”

“Yes,” Ori smiled. “He is very strong. Not as strong as Dori, of course, but still very strong. When you get another chance to inspect his muscles are you going to take it?”

“I think that would be a terrible idea,” Bilba uttered. “Just imagining it! Guh!”

“But you are imagining it! That is good!”

In the end Ori managed to get her friend to sit next to her and look when only Nori, Bifur, Bofur and Dwalin were the ones still just in trousers.

_“Eru’s shiny beard!”_ Bilba gasped. “No wonder you seem a little smitten. Dwalin’s muscles are _huge_ and he does indeed have a nice backside,” Bilba breathed. “The others aren’t bad either!”

“ _See!_ ” she said in glee. “Isn’t it more fun to giggle about it when you’ve seen it?”

“I guess it is. I never understood why my friends would giggle together over the males when we were tweens. I never saw anything to get excited over. I’m glad I have you to giggle along with now that I know why!”

“Does that mean you will look at Thorin the next time a chance comes along?”

“I-I think so,” she blushed and both of them burst out in giggles once again and they re-entered the camp. Ori knew Bilba would get another chance, even if she had to arrange it herself.

On seeing them, Bifur grunted something and he and Dwalin moved to retrieve a tunic.

“It’s alright,” she stopped them. “You don’t have to do that on my account. You have taken into consideration my sensibilities I should do the same for your culture.” She was blushing furiously and continued a little shakily. “Just please keep the trousers on. I don’t think I can take nudity right now.”

“Does that mean we can take our tunics off?” Kili asked.

“I-I guess. If you want to.”

Fili and Kili spent the rest of the day in just their trousers. Bilba enjoyed giggling with Ori about it.

Thorin kept his tunic on.

After their things had had a chance to dry the two females helped one another collect their belongings and re-pack their bags.

They were almost done when Ori stopped and examined Bilba’s cloak. It was a light gray color trimmed in white fur and she had embroidered leafy curling vines with orange flowers around the edges and her emblem on the left breast. That was the outline of a blue flower with the outline of an orange fire flower in its center.

“You told me you could embroider. Is this your work?” the dwarf woman asked lifting the cloak.

“Yes, it is.”

Ori startled her by walking off to where the others were sitting. “Come take a look at this,” she told them. “Bilba embroidered her cloak!”

The company gathered around, each taking a portion of the edge until they were circled around her near fully unfurled cloak. They all took the time examine her work.

“This is very finely done, burglar,” Thorin finally said.

The others followed with their praise.

Blushing faintly she thanked them.

“Does this pattern mean anything among your people?” Dori asked.

“Not the one around the edge. Vines are a common pattern for work like this. The design on the left breast is my emblem, though. The larger blue flower is the Baggins Family emblem. The orange flower in its center is the Took’s. My mother was a Took so I am permitted to wear it. They are outlines whereas a Head of House would be solid in color. ”

“It looks more like a crown than a flower,” said Gloin who was the closest to it.

“I always thought it looked like a book with its pages being turned," Bilba mused. "It’s actually called a fire flower, though.”

“Do you know what kind of fur this is?” Dori inquired.

“Wolf.”

Bifur grunted something.

“Yer right. Somehow, tha’ seems an odd choice fer a hobbit,” commented Bofur.

“It is. We normally use rabbit. This fur came from the pelt of the wolf that killed my mother during the Fell Winter. If the Rangers hadn’t arrived when they did, it would have taken my life as well. She died protecting me. I chose to use it in remembrance of my mother’s sacrifice.”

“We’re sorry, lass,” Dwalin said.

“Thank you,” Bilba accepted, a sad smile on her face.

 

oOoOoOo

 

“Alright, lass. Get yer dagger. Time fer yer trainin’ ta start,” Dwalin told Bilba later that afternoon.

With much trepidation she did as he asked and joined him at the far side of the camp where there was an open area. The hobbit was followed by Fili, Kili, and Ori. When they tried to sit on the ground to one side in order to watch Dwalin stopped the two Durins by grabbing them by their hair and forcing them to their feet.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” they both wined.

“No spectatin’ fer ye, lads. Time fer yer own trainin’. Gotta pay ye back fer all the ‘Mister Dwalin’s’ ye have been givin’ me,” Dwalin grinned maliciously.

The brothers seemed to wilt.

“Now get ta yer warm up exercises while I work with Bilba.”

“Yes, Dwalin.”

First thing the gruff dwarf showed her was how to properly hold her weapon.

“Ye need ta get comfortable with it in yer hand. It’s a part of ye, like an extension o’ yer arm. Ye guide it, tell it where ta go, not the other way around. If ye aren’t in control ye are more of a danger ta yerself and yer allies than a threat ta yer enemy.”

He showed her multiple ways to block and had her practice them over and over until her arms ached.

“Getting tired Bilba?” Fili called.

“Yes, and I’m not ashamed to admit it!” Bilba assured him.

“Ye will have ta work ta build up yer strength,” Dwalin counseled.

“Yes, but I will never be as strong as you must be to lift that boulder you call a hammer!” Bilba laughed pointing to the warhammer he was leaning on.

“It’s na _that_ heavy. Here, try liftin’ it,” Dwalin said putting the hammer head on the ground.

Bilba tried. She really did. She could drag it a bit on the ground, but she wasn’t even close to being able to lift it.

Fili and Kili found her attempts hilarious.

“Alright ye two, yer turn ta give it a try,” challenged Dwalin.

They were each able to lift and swing it with both hands.

“Ori, you lift it,” Nori called. Sometime during their practice he had wandered over to lean against a tree without anyone noticing.

Ori looked questioningly at Dwalin for permission. When he nodded she stood and lifted and swung the heavy hammer several times. She didn’t stagger but was in complete control of the weapon. Nodding to herself, she handed the hammer back to its owner, and she did all this with one arm.

Fili’s and Kili’s jaws dropped. Bilba’s wasn’t far behind.

Dwalin thought that it might just be the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Clearing his throat he said a little gruffly, “I see ye have your eldest brother’s strength.”

“Yes, she does,” said Nori.

“I’m not _as_ strong as Dori,” she blushed.

“Why do ye use a slingshot when ye can lift a weapon like this so easily?” Dwalin asked. 

Ori shrugged, “I like it.”

Dwalin let the topic go with a grunt then turned back to the young brothers. He proceeded to chase them around in a sparring match until the sun had set completely. They collapsed on their bedrolls as soon as Dwalin released them from practice.

 

oOoOoOo

 

They were in Ered Luin for Winter Solstice. He sat in his favorite chair in the family sitting room. His mother and sister sat on the short couch. His nephews sat at their feet. Spread around the room were the members of his company. They had come to join them for the celebration.

There was movement to his left. It was the hobbit. She was in a dark blue dress with black and silver trimmings that was of dwarven design and was carrying two mugs of mead. He thought she looked well in his colors.

Bilba handed him one of the mugs then sat down at his feet, leaning against his left leg. At some point during the party he found himself caressing her soft curls and she was leaning into his touch. When he realized what he was doing he pulled his hand back.

The hobbit surprised him by turning her head and giving him a bright adoring smile. It made his heart swell. He felt his own smile beginning to form when - when he woke up in his bed roll.

_‘Why in Mahal’s name would I dream something like that?’_ Thorin asked himself. Sitting at someone’s feet like the hobbit had was for family, like children or lovers. And touching her hair without permission! He would never be so forward! They were hardly more than strangers even if she _was_ adept at making friends among his company.

Thorin was confused and he didn’t like it. That put him in a bad mood for the rest of the morning.

 

oOoOoOo

 

“Do any of you have wives and children back in the Blue Mountains?” Bilba asked making conversation while they rode the day after their rest day.

Several dwarves had started making desperate gestures like they wanted her to stop speaking.

“What?” she asked confused.

Gloin, looking thrilled, slowed his horse to fall back to where Bilba was riding in the party.

“Now you’ve done it!” Fili said.

“He’ll go on for _hours_. Sorry, but you are on your own.” Kili said, and he and his brother rode off ahead.

“Here,” Gloin said when he was even with Bilba. He handed her a small flat case which turned out to be a large locket that contained the portraits of two dwarves. “That is my dear wife, Tawni, and my wee lad, Gimli.”

The other dwarves had obviously experienced Gloin’s adoration for his family before because they all gave him and Bilba a wide berth for the next few hours. Bilba didn’t mind. Family was a common topic among hobbits. She supposed hearing it over and over again might be tedious. But for right now not only was this a new family to learn about, it was the family of a new friend, and that deserved her full attention.

Tawni had hair like molten gold and eyes like blue topaz. She had the most magnificent beard in all of Ered Luin. In it she normally wore a chain of gems that Gloin had given her as a courting gift.

Gloin told her how the first time he saw her, he knew she was his One.

“Dwarves only love once in their lives,” he explained at her confused look. “We call ‘em our One. They’re no’ predestined soul-mates like in the stories, but it don’t usually take long for us ta fall in love. Falling at first sight is very common.”

Gloin may have fallen in love at first sight, but Tawni had apparently taken some convincing. She had made him court her for more than a year before she had declared he was her One and agreed to marry him.

Their son was a tall strong lad with red hair and fine beard like his proud parents. He had wanted to join them on the quest, but as he was not yet an adult his parents hadn’t permitted it. Given his reaction to her age, Bilba doubted Thorin would have permitted it either.

Gimli’s first word had been ‘gem’. He’d become Battle Ready at twenty. Following in his father’s footsteps, he had chosen to wield axes as his primary weapons and was learning about gem cutting. He was good friends with Fili and Kili, but (in Gloin’s opinion) much better behaved.

“I hope someday to be able to meet your family,” she told him.

“I’d like that very much,” Gloin assured her.

Bilba was able to get in a few questions of her own as well. She found out that Gloin and his brother were first cousins to Balin and Dwalin, and all four were third cousins to Thorin.

“I must admit, Master Gloin, when Gandalf told me dwarves were coming to my smial your very admirable beard is beyond what I had been imagining showing up at my door.”

This caused Gloin to boomed out a full belly laugh.

“Thank ye, Miss Bilba,” he beamed. He glanced around at the others to make sure they weren’t in hearing range. In a more quiet voice he continued. “I imagine some o’ the others’ beards were a mite underwhelmin’, aye? Thorin trims his in remembrance o’ all we lost when Smaug came. If we do manage to retake Erebor, I’d bet he will start growin’ it again. Judgin’ by his father’s and grandfather’s beards, his would be fine, too. Kili is still young enough he might still have a chance to grow a decent beard. Fili’s is coming in just fine. I don’t know why Bofur’s beard is so short. He seems to be able to grow a mustache well enough. Probably best not ta bring it up though. It’s usually insulting ta make mention o’ a dwarf’s lack of beard. We tease Kili a li'l because he is young. Doesn’t hurt that he takes it well and also has no problem teasing others about anythin’.”

“Turnabout is fair play?”

“Aye!”

Gloin was impressed that not only had she listened to him talk for hours about his wife and son, she had been genuinely interested to hear what he said and had even asked questions. No one had ever indulge him like that before.

“And just call me Gloin.”

“And I am just Bilba.”

The burglar had just won another dwarf’s friendship.

 

oOoOoOo

 

“What about the rest of you? Any wives and children?” Bilba asked when they had made camp for the night.

“Bombur does,” Bofur offered.

“I do,” Bombur beamed. “I have my lovely Mylin, three children, Rylin, Mirlin, and Kirlin, and another on the way.”

“Congratulations! I hope you the next time you see them you have healthy and strong little one to meet.”

“Thank you!”

“Anyone else?”

All the other dwarves shook their heads.

“Only Gloin and Bombur are married in this entire group?” Bilba asked looking around at them all in astonishment.

“Aye, lass. Our women folk are few,” Bofur said.

“Only about one in three dwarves born are female and not all of them marry,” Balin explained.

“That is why Bombur is considered so blessed. His three little ones are all girls. That is very, very rare,” Bofur mentioned.

“Their rarity is also why we are so protective of females,” Fili added.

“I suppose that makes sense, but now I am surprised you let Ori join you on this quest.”

“We didn’t want to,” Dori grumbled, “but we didn’t have anyone to leave her to live with. All our close relatives are dead or travel with the trading caravans.”

“She could have stayed with my mother and sister,” Thorin frowned.

“We didn’t want to impose,” Dori said. All three siblings looked uncomfortable.

“You are descendants of Durin, and even were you not, your willingness to accompany me on this journey entitles you to such consideration.”

“Thank you, but I wanted to come. Dori tried to convince me to stay in Ered Luin, but it was my choice. I told them if you left without me I would just follow you on my own,” Ori quietly but firmly informed them.

“Good on ye, lass!” Dwalin laughed putting a hand on her shoulder. “I donna like females being in danger, but I respect their right ta choose their own path. Don’t ye let others stop ye from doin’ what ye want ta do with yer life, not even yer fussy brothers!”

Ori blushed scarlet. Dori and Nori scowled at him.

“Are all of you closely related then?” Bilba asked.

“No, lass. We may be descended from Durin, but there are at least ten generations separating us from them,” Dori said.

Bofur spoke up next. “We’re no’ related ta any o’ them as far as we know. The six o’ us,” he said gesturing at himself, his brother and cousin and the three Ri siblings, “are more whatcha might call ‘working class’ an’ they,” gesturing at everyone else, “are nobles.”

Ori nodded, “My brothers worked very hard to get me my scribe apprenticeship. It is considered more of a noble’s position.”

“They may have worked hard to get you your education, lass, but you got your apprenticeship because of your natural talent and temperament,” Balin was quick to point out.

“Aye, my brother is too busy ta take on just _anyone_ as an apprentice,” added Dwalin.

“And you have assisted him in his duties admirably,” stated Thorin.

“Thank you,” Ori’s fading blush returned full force at all the praise. Bilba thought she might burst into flames soon so she changed the topic.

“You know, I can’t help but notice that the only two dwarves here that are married are redheads.” Turning to Ori she asked, “Do dwarf women have a weakness for gingers?”

That got a laugh from most of the group.

“I think it has more ta do with the size of their... beards,” Bofur winked at her.

 

oOoOoOo

 

While traveling the next day Bilba thought it might be time to try and chat with Thorin since he wasn’t actually leading the company right now. She even had a topic she could start with.

“Your mother and sister are in the Blue Mountains?” she asked when she caught up next to him.

“Yes.”

“Would that sister be Fili’s and Kili’s mother?”

“Yes.”

_‘One word answers. Great!'_ she thought.

“What are their names?”

“My mother’s name is Nis. My sister’s is Dis. I am surprised you are not asking my nephews about this.”

“I will, but they will have a different perspective of Lady Dis as her sons than you do as her brother and besides I want to talk with you. Are you older or younger than your sister?”

“Older. Why do you want to talk to me?”

“By how many years? And because I do.”

“Almost fourteen, with our brother Frerin between us. He was born five years after me. Why do you want to?”

“Is that a normal space of time between siblings? Why wouldn’t I? You think it odd that I would want to learn about my traveling companions?”

“Ten years between each birth is much more normal. Fili and Kili are only five years apart, too. For dwarves that is almost like human twins. Like females, dwarflings are rare. Not every marriage produces offspring, but those that do average three dwarflings.”

“That is quite different than Hobbits. I’d say six is a common number of faunts with two years between each. Though my grandparents had twelve!”

“Twelve _children?!”_ Thorin turned to stare at the hobbit in shock.

“Yes, I don’t know how she managed to raise so many Tooks and retain her sanity!”

“You have mentioned ‘Tooks’ several times but I do not understand the reference.”

Bilba grinned at him impishly. It was more devious than her normal sunny smile, but it still made Thorin’s heart beat faster. In an effort to conceal his reaction to it he tried to keep his gaze focused on the road in front of him. He thought it was ridiculous that she could affect him like this. He was one-hundred-eighty years old for Mahal sake! Not his nephews age!

“Took is the name of one of the families in the Shire. Those with Took blood in them are the most adventurous of hobbits and known for unusual, sometimes scandalous, behavior," Bilba grinned with mock appall. "Not surprising considering the lineage. They would probably be regarded as less respectable than they already are if the Head of the Took family wasn’t the Thain.”

“The Thain of the Shire is a Took?” Thorin almost seemed to freeze on top of his pony.

“Mhmm.”

“Your king?” he asked turning his head and full attention towards her.

“We don't use such titles, but I suppose he would be the hobbit equivalent of a king or near enough as other races would understand,” Bilba shrugged.

“And your mother was a Took, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So, you are related to the Thain,” he stated.

“Mhmm.”

“How?” he demanded.

“He is my grandfather,” Bilba said simply, unaware of Thorin's quickly growing disquiet.

“Your _grandfather!"_  he exclaimed, jaw dropping for a moment. "You are a _princess?!”_  

Thorin did not wait for her response.

“THARKUN!” he pulled his pony to a stop and turned it around to yell at the wizard. “You failed to mention that SHE,” pointing at Bilba, “is the granddaughter of the Thain!”

“I didn’t say anything because it is not pertinent to your quest,” the wizard replied.

“Not pertinent?!" Thorin roared. "Their king is going to think we absconded with his granddaughter!”

“Oh, well isn’t _that_ marvelous,” Bofur called out. “We kidnapped a princess!”

“Should we expect to be pursued by an army of angry hobbits intent on rescuing her?” inquired Balin.

“Highly unlikely,” Gandalf said. “Bilba is the first hobbit to travel further than Bree in many, many years. Besides, she and I both left letters for the Thain explaining that she was leaving of her own free will.”

“My people do trade with the hobbits! Do you think that will continue if they think we will make off with their females?!” Thorin continued to yell at the wizard.

“Oh, I have no doubt you can work through any misunderstandings,” the wizard assured them.

Balin just sighed. It looked like he would have to make nice with the Thain of the Shire after all.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Later that night two trolls held the hobbit hostage while the third had the dwarves disarm and strip down to their long underwear. He tied the Ri family, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, and Fili to a spit to put over the fire. The rest he stuffed in smelly coarse bags and tossed to one side. When they made to put the hobbit in a sack she spoke.

“A moment if you please.”

Confused the trolls actually put her back down on the ground. Once released, Bilba removed her snot covered jacket and used the cleaner inside to wipe off her head and neck. After dropping her soiled coat, she turned her attention back to the trolls.

“Thank you,” she said.

The trolls looked at one another still confused, then each shrugged and one picked Bilba up and put her in a sack.

Most of the dwarves that hadn’t been put on the spit had landed in a pile. Thorin was just outside and behind them. He had considered himself relatively lucky for that until the last member of the company was tossed in their direction. The hobbit landed directly on top of him, narrowly missing knocking their heads together.

Without his armor he could feel all of her soft curves against him even with the layers of material between them. Then the bothersome hobbit started to _wiggle_.

“Stop moving,” he hissed.

“Shh. Don’t draw their attention! I think I can get out if you will be quiet for long enough.”

Her squirming brought her ample bosom up to his face. It was perhaps an inch away and _jiggling._ All he would have to do to touch her was to lean his head up just a little and he’d be able to kiss, nibble, lick and caress her creamy skin.

Dwarf females figures often did not differ much from that of their male counterparts, but there was no way to mistake the hobbit’s curves for anything _but_ female. It had been years since he had sought relief with female company. Too many years, if he entertained such thoughts about his burglar. Even if she was more buxom than any dwarf female he had lain with.

Not that he would try anything. Not without the female’s consent, and certainly not in a most inopportune time like this.

From the way Thorin had landed he had no way to move his head to a more polite distance. It was already against a small boulder. Re-positioning himself would require jerking his own body and with her shimmying on top of him, that would push him beyond what he thought his self control could take. Being caught by trolls was more than enough embarrassment. He did not want to be in _another_ Unfortunate Circumstance.

Thorin couldn’t believe this. Here he was with a beautiful woman writhing on top of him. And it wasn’t while they were somewhere safe, in a bed where she had come to him willingly because she desired him. No, they were bound and about to be eaten by _trolls._ It was about the most inconvenient scenario he could think of to experience this sort of distraction!

Thorin had never been what he would have called lucky, but he must have inadvertently offended the Valar at some point to be punished this way.

_Mahal’s mighty hammer!_ When he said she would be a distraction he hadn’t thought it would be like _this!_

Meanwhile, Bilba was too naive to realize the soft grunts and groans her movements were pulling from the male beneath her were not from her weight crushing him as she had thought. Her suspicions were confirmed in her own mind by the relieved sound he made when she managed to move off his chest. She landed quietly on the ground on the far side away from the trolls. Keeping an eye on the three huge monsters she managed to shimmy out of the sack and slip out into the darkness.

 

oOoOoOo

 

So, the Troll incident could have gone better. It could have gone a whole lot worse too. They had all survived unharmed. The only wounds were to their prides for being caught by trolls.

_‘Who knows, maybe for Thorin such a blow is a mortal wound,’_ Bilba thought bitterly. By the way he'd yelled at her afterwards, it seemed possible.

Ok, she got caught, which had lead to the dwarves getting caught. Being covered in troll snot was definitely a low point in her life. In her own defense, Bilba did escape without the trolls noticing and then had gotten them to argue amongst themselves.

Until they noticed that none of them had spoken when they heard her speak. That lead her to being recaptured.

So, she just tried to delay the trolls by claiming she could educate them on how to properly cook dwarf. The dwarves hadn’t been amused about the skinning thing. Or the claim of parasites. She was grateful Thorin had caught onto what she was trying to do. In other circumstances she might have laughed when she saw him kick Kili for trying to deny an infestation.

They had managed to stay the trolls long enough for Gandalf to return from his huff. He'd broken that big boulder behind the trolls and let dawn's light shine on them, and _poof!_ They'd turned to stone!

It was true she had put them in danger, but she had helped them get out too!

After finding the troll hoard Bilba now had a weapon of her own, a lovely elven blade. Not that she would be of much use in a battle with it yet. She returned Kili’s dagger to him.

Thorin and Gandalf had also acquired new elven swords from the troll hoard and some of the others buried a chest filled with gold for a ‘long term deposit,’ whatever they meant by that.

Bilba wasn’t sure what to think of the second wizard that showed up. He was a wizard and that should never be discounted but… Gandalf had pulled a stick insect from his mouth. And what was that on the side of his head? Was that _bird droppings? Yuck!_

The wizards moved off and had what looked to be an intense private conversation, before rejoining the group. Radagast paused as he noticed Bilba.

“It has been many years since I have seen any of Yavanna’s Children this far east. I heard you settled in rolling hills leagues to the west of here,” he said looking intently at her.

Bilba looked behind her confused. “Who are you talking to? Yavanna’s Children? Who are they?”

“Why you, my dear! Where did you think your kind came from?” the odd wizard said.

“We don’t usually concern ourselves with our origins. We figured we were an offshoot of Men.”

“Men! No, no, not Men! Do not all your kind share a love for things that grow, especially the small plants like flowers and vegetables? When the ent-wives disappeared and more and more of the ents sunk so deep into sleep they couldn’t be woken Yavanna’s fear for her creations grew once again. She petitioned Eru to be permitted to create children of her own, as her husband Aule had,” he said motioning to the dwarves with his staff. “Children that would tend her creations; see that they not only survive but flourish. As some ents still protect the forests, Eru granted her permission to form a race to care more for the smaller plants like the lost ent-wives had, and he would breathe life into then adopt them as his own as he had the dwarves. That is why you are the youngest of the races.”

Bilba was speechless. She didn't know what an ent or ent-wife was, but honestly how do you respond to something like _that?_

Turns out she wouldn’t have to. The howl of wargs took away her chance.

Radagast attempted to mislead the orc pack but that was unsuccessful. It was only Gandalf leading them to a hidden cave that saved them.

 

oOoOoOo

 

It was a nearly a month after Bilba had left the Shire before the Thain had the chance to meet with a Ranger. He was a tall man with shoulder length brown locks. His dark green cloak was travel stained and well fitted boots were worn.

“Let me see if I understand you correctly," the Ranger spoke. "Your young princess ran off with Gandalf the Grey and a group of dwarves thinking she would be forced to marry that dishonorable hobbit if she stayed. You are asking for assistance in finding and informing her that this is not the case?”

“Yes, and assist her back here to the Shire if she needs it. Will you help us?” Hobbits may not use the title ‘princess’, but that was as near as accurate as any of the other races would understand his granddaughter’s position to be. Understanding that Bilba was important might make the Ranger more willing to help and it might give her more respect and protection.

“I will. Do you have any documents or letters you wish me to carry to her informing her she may return to the Shire in safety?”

“I do,” the Thain said handing the Ranger a dark red leather scroll case with an orange fire flower on it. “This carries a copy of the Official Decree along with several letters, some for my granddaughter, one for the dwarf that saved her, and one for Gandalf.”

“You do not know of their journey beyond Bree.”

“Only that they left by the East Gate.”

“By your leave, I will set out at once. I hope I am successful and find your princess safe and sound.”

“You have my gratitude, Master Ranger, for even taking on this task with so little information. I wish you swift and safe travel.”

“Thank you, Thain Took. Around this part of the world I’m known as Strider.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

Questioning the inhabitants of Bree himself did not reveal any new information about the destination of the group Bilba Baggins was traveling with. Though the conversation with Lily Proudfoot was the most useful.

“I am looking for information about a hobbit woman named Bilba Baggins or the party she travels with,” he’d asked the hobbit woman when she answered her door.

“Why are you looking for her?” she asked suspiciously.

“Her grandfather has asked me to deliver the message that it is safe for her to return home.”

“What if she doesn’t want to return to the Shire? What then? What would you do?”

“That is for her to decide. My mission is to deliver the message, but I will see her to safety if she requires it and report what I have learned back to her grandfather.”

Lily nodded in approval before allowing him in her home to talk further.

“I don’t know where they were headed,” she started off with immediately. “The dwarf leader told her not to talk about it.”

“What makes you so sure he was the leader?”

“You could tell that from looking at him. The way he held himself. The way he spoke. The way the others responded to him. He was assigning duties when I encountered them for the first time. Everything about him said he was used to being in charge.”

“Did you catch a name or remember what he looked like?”

It turned out Lily was able to give him descriptions of all thirteen dwarves and the three names she had learned: Ori, Nori, and Bifur. It still wasn’t much to go on, but it was something. Now he just had to decide what to do with the information he had.

It appeared they had taken the East Road. He could follow that and hope he could catch up with them. They had a month’s lead on him, though.

If Gandalf had taken the group of dwarves and the hobbit on the East Road, they might stop in Rivendell. If the wizard could convince the dwarves to do so anyway. He knew Gandalf was adept at manipulating others, but dwarves were known for being stubborn. If they did stop in Rivendell perhaps he could catch up with them there or get information about their destination and catch up with them on the road beyond. If they didn’t stop there, he wouldn’t know where to go. His other option was to travel to Ered Luin and hope to find information about a group of dwarves that included ones named Ori, Nori, and Bifur that were traveling with a wizard.

In the end Strider decided he would have the best chance of finding the hobbit if he knew more about the dwarves than he would wandering the Wilds. He was a skilled tracker but with a month's lead and the recent storm it was highly unlikely he could find them that way. That meant making the journey to Ered Luin even though it was in the wrong direction.

 

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets more into the “Timeline Shenanigans” tag. As this story happens 15 years earlier than cannon, I know Aragorn wouldn't have been born yet, but hey I want him in the story (and I didn't want to come up with a name for an OC ranger). I’m going with the explanation that everyone was born into Middle Earth in time to do the things they need to do. So expect other characters from the Lord of the Rings books to appear sometime in the future. I will probably have Bilba deal with the One Ring an a sequel. I have always liked Bilbo more than Frodo. Sorry.
> 
> I decided to combine movie and book for the troll scene. I hope it came out understandable.
> 
> Feed back always appreciated!


	10. Ship Captain Gandalf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting this to assure you I am still writing. And I wanted to use the chapter title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay and that this is so short! I have been working on the events that happen in Rivendell and there is a LOT that happens there. What I have written so far is double the length of chapter 9 and I am not done writing yet. I may break it up into 2 -3 chapters when I post it. I just have to make sure I have everything happen that I want to happen and that they occur in the right order since I don’t always write scenes chronologically.

oOoOoOo

 

Contrary to appearances, Gandalf _had_ noticed Bilba’s reaction to Thorin upon their acquaintance. He had also noticed that the Dwarf King was similarly affected.

_‘She would make him a fine queen, and her kind, gentle, selfless ways may help ease the hold gold sickness seemed to have on the Line of Durin whether it be through offspring or just her influence.’_

The wizard liked this possibility. Yes, indeed, he liked it very much.

_‘Hmm. This bears watching, and perhaps a few nudges along the way.’_

Gandalf placed a spell on the two subjects. Nothing too major of course. Just a very minor spell that increased the chances of them being pulled together physically. Say, if Bilba were to trip while near Thorin, the spell would make it more likely she would fall into his arms.

Later, Balin’s account of the troll incident seemed to confirm that the spell was working well enough. Gandalf wished he had been there to see the Dwarf King get a little flustered by a wiggling hobbit.

Gandalf was also delighted to learn the pairing had support among the dwarves of the company. Balin and Dwalin had noticed their King’s reaction to the hobbit during their time in Bag End. Ori, he learned, noticed in Bree. Fili and Kili were all for it after hearing Gloin comment that Thorin should just go ahead and marry Bilba so he could have blackberry tarts any time he wanted.

After they reached Rivendell, Gandalf washed quickly then excused himself from the dwarves as soon as possible and sought out a private meeting with the Lord of Rivendell.

“What do you wish to speak to me about, Mithrandir, that could not wait until dinner?” Elrond asked as he finished dressing after his own bath. A servant tended to the Lord’s recently discarded armor in one corner of the room.

“I was hoping to enlist your aid in a small project I have going.”

“Small projects for you tend to have far reaching effects,” Elrond said giving the wizard a look, then sighed. “What is it that you are working on?”

“I am trying to bring Thorin Oakenshield and Bilba Baggins together,” the wizard smiled.

“Bring them together? Mithrandir, are you playing matchmaker again?!” the Elf Lord asked astonished.

“Indeed, I am. Bilba would be very good for Thorin and the future of the Line of Durin.”

“Ah! _There_ are the far reaching effects I mentioned,” Elrond pointed out. “I do believe you are correct in that Bilba would be a good influence on the Dwarf King, but would he be good for her?”

“I think he could be, given the chance. Seat them next to one another at dinner tonight and observe them. They are not indifferent to each other, even if they have yet to realize the extent of their attraction. If their behavior does not convince you, I will not bother you for aid on this topic again.”

“Very well,” Elrond said and sent his servant off with the modified seating arrangement.

 

oOoOoOo


	11. The First Night in Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {...} elvish  
> [...] khuzdul  
> /…\ iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
>  
> 
> The chapter was originally longer than this, but I stopped it where I did so I could post it for you. I am still working on the next part.
> 
> Some movie verse stuff ahead, just a warning for those of you who don't prefer that stuff.

oOoOoOo

 

“Would you like refreshment or to refresh yourselves first?” Lord Elrond asked them after welcoming them to Rivendell.

“Food,” several of the dwarves agreed.

“If it is not too much trouble, I would like to bathe before eating,” Bilba requested from the center of the group where she had been pushed when the elves had arrived on their horses.

“Can’t ye wait ‘til later fer that? We have na' eaten since super last night!” Bofur asked.

“It's been longer than that for some of us!” Fili said. Kili nodded in agreement.

“I am covered in troll snot. I would rather not remain like this any longer than I have to.”

Glancing at her Thorin acceded, “We would like to wash before eating.”

Bilba would have sworn she heard Bombur whimper.

“Of course. Erestor will show you to a male bathing chamber. I will escort the halfling to the Maidens’ Quarters where she will be taken care of.”

The dwarves scowled at that.

“Here now, ye’ll not be taking the lass away from us ta be all on her own,” Dwalin objected.

“She will not be alone. I will place her under the care of my own daughter. No harm shall befall her here,” Elrond soothed.

“We are to just take your word for it?” Thorin demanded.

“I will go with her,” Ori offered.

“I am afraid only females are allowed to enter the Maidens’ Quarters,” Erestor said.

“Good thing I am a female then,” Ori said.

Erestor’s eyebrows rose. Dori and Nori could be heard groaning their disapproval of her revealing her true gender to elves. Thorin and Dwalin both looked disapproving at the younger dwarf as well.

“Very well. Mistress Dwarf, Halfling, if you would follow me.” Elrond said leading the way from the courtyard. There was more grumbling from the males as the two women followed.

“Your home is very lovely, Lord Elrond,” Bilba told him.

“Thank you, Halfling,” he smiled.

“We prefer hobbit, or our own names, if you don’t mind,” she informed the elf.

“And that would be, Mistress Hobbit?”

“Bilba Baggins, at your service.”

“And yours, Mistress Dwarf?”

“I’m Ori, daughter of Vori,” she said. Hesitantly she added, “At your service.”

“A pleasure to meet you both. I hope that you may find peace and rest in my halls,” Elrond replied. “Forgive me for any offense I may have caused. I did not know of your preference, Mistress Baggins.”

“You are forgiven, Lord Elrond. We find it distasteful because, though we are a short race, we are not half of anything. We are not half an elf, or man, or dwarf, but whole people on our own. And just Bilba will be fine.”

Elrond nodded, “Thank you, Bilba. You have educated me.”

“I have heard you are very wise. I imagine there is not not much you do not know,” Bilba laughed.

“I will admit it is sometimes a struggle to find something new to study. Perhaps I shall study Hobbits next since my knowledge is obviously lacking.”

“We are not all that interesting. We like food, drink, good company and all the comforts of home. Not much more to us than that.”

“Yet here you are, traveling with dwarves, far away from your comforts. I am curious to learn your motivations for such a journey, one that seems very different than what you just informed me was the preference of your people.”

“That is a bit of a story.”

“I hope you stay here long enough to tell it, should you choose to share your tale with me.”

“I doubt you will find it entertaining, but if you wish to hear it I will tell you.”

“What about you Mistress Ori? I had believed it was rare for women folk of your kind to leave their halls.”

“It is, but my reasons for traveling are not my tale to tell.”

“Is it Thorin Oakenshield’s tale then?” inquired the Elf Lord.

“Um, yes.”

“Then I shall inquire after the tale from him.”

They reach a set of doors and Bilba gasped. They were ornately carved as a tree with fruit in its leaves, flowers growing around its roots, and birds flying around its branches. They were the most beautiful doors she had ever seen.

Elrond knocked on one and it was answered by a golden haired elf maid.

“I need to speak with my daughter, please.”

“Of course, My Lord,” she curtsied and closed the door.

A few minutes later it was reopened and a very beautiful dark haired elf maid stepped out, followed by two more.

“{Ada! How was your hunt?}” the first said giving him a hug.

“{We slew an orc pack not far beyond our borders.}” Elrond returned the embrace gently, still mindful of his armor.

“{Orcs! So near?}” she asked pulling away to look him in the face.

“{There is nothing to fear, Arwen. We have taken care of them.} But, that is not why I have called you out here.” He turned to his guests. “May I introduce Bilba Baggins, a hobbit of the Shire, and Ori, daughter of Vori.”

“At your service,” Bilba and Ori curtsied.

“This is my daughter Arwen,” Lord Elrond continued.

Arwen curtsied, “I am at yours.”

“I leave them in your care, Arwen. They expressed a desire to wash before they and the rest of their party join us for dinner.”

“Of course, Ada. I will see to their needs.”

Lord Elrond bowed to his guests and departed.

Arwen smiled kindly to her charges. Opening the door she said, “You must have traveled far. Come let us get you cleaned up.”

Inside Arwen introduced the other two dark haired elves as her ladies-in-waiting, Harneth and Laegil.

The elves led their guests to a large chamber that contained a pool that Bilba thought was about half the size of Bag End. The first waterfall poured into the pool on one side while a second waterfall emptied from it on the opposite side and cascaded all the way down to the bottom of the valley where it and many other waterfalls formed a river leading away from the elven home. Gulping, the hobbit hoped the pool was very shallow.

One wall of the chamber was covered in small wooden basins, jars, and bottles that Bilba guessed contained soap while another held shelves full of folded towels and large baskets. Sets of curved padded benches formed a semicircle around the pool several yards away.

“There are steps right here leading down into the pool,” Arwen gestured to one area, “and there is a bench running around the rest of the edge about a foot below the water. Also, the near side of the pool is more shallow than the far side. Do you have clean clothes to change into? If you do not, I am sure we can find something for you to borrow until your own clothes can be washed.”

“I have a dress that should be clean,” Bilba nodded.

“I have another set of of clothes,” Ori added.

Arwen’s two handmaidens brought two of the large baskets along with two sets of towels of various sizes over to the nearest bench. These turned out to be paired chaise lounge chairs that coiled around each other at the head to form a table.

“Place anything you wish to have washed in these baskets and they will be returned to you cleaned sometime tomorrow. This wall over here holds soaps, lotions, and hair oils of many different scents. Many of which are derived from plants. Do you have a preference?”

“Do you have one that smells like orange blossom?” Bilba asked. “That has always been my favorite.”

“We do indeed,” Arwen said taking one of the wooden bowls from the shelf and removing a small bar of soap from it. Replacing it she removed the jar and bottle next to it. “Here is the soap and this jar is the the lotion, and this bottle is the hair oil if you should have need of them.” She handed the bar to Bilba and placed the glass bottle and jar on the table between the two long chairs.

“What about you Mistress Ori? Do you have a favorite scent?”

“Do you have a sandalwood scented one?” Ori asked shyly.

“Yes, we actually have two. Do you want the plain sandalwood or would you like to try the one mixed with rose?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Here,” Arwen said pulling two jars off the shelf. “Why don’t you smell them and see which you like better.”

Ori ended up picking the plain one while Bilba thought that the mixed one smelled rather nice. She hoped they had another chance to bathe here so she could try it out.

Bilba was thrilled to have the opportunity to finally remove the rest of her snot encrusted clothes. She felt a slight pang of pity for whomever had the misfortune to wash her laundry when she placed the filthy coat in the basket.

“Uck! It is going to take an age to get all the knots out of my hair! It would probably be easier to cut it off,” Bilba exclaimed.

“No!” the other four occupants in the room gasped.

“Do not cut it off, please!” Arwen said. “I would be more than happy to assist you in removing the tangles.”

“I do not want to inconvenience you.”

“It is no inconvenience.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo smiled.

Once disrobed Bilba, Ori, and Arwen entered the bath. The elf sat on the bench and scrubbed the hobbit's hair. She actually washed it three times before she was satisfied. Bilba enjoyed the luxury of having someone else do the work on her hair as she used the soap and a small cloth to scrub the dirt from her skin.

The females had a merry time over the next hour getting to know one another. Ori, Harneth, and Laegil joined Arwen in combing the tangles from Bilba's hair. They ended up using the entire bottle of oil, a fourth washing, and part of an additional bottle of oil to help her hair recover from the damage acquired on the road, and to keep Bilba from carrying through on her thought to cut it off.

The end result amazed Bilba. She had no idea her hair could look like that! The hobbit wondered if she could convince the elves to part with some of the oil when she left.

 

oOoOoOo

 

When his lord departed with the two females, Erestor was abandoned to the scowls of twelve angry dwarves and the jovial smile of a wizard. The elf was sure Mithrandir was laughing at him on the inside. Hopefully he was cursing the dwarves, too. Resigned, he led the guests to one of the bathing chambers.

“Place anything you wish to have washed in a basket and it will be returned to you tomorrow. The wooden bowls on this wall contain soap, the jars and bottles next to them contain the lotion and hair oil of the same scent.”

“Whatcha need that many scents fer?!” Bofur exclaimed.

“Personal preference," stated the elf. "Is there a scent you are interested in?”

“How’s about no scent?” asked Nori.

“I am afraid not. Most are flower or fruit based scents.”

“Ye got anything that doesna scream ‘elf maid’?” scoffed Dwalin.

“There is a sandalwood scent,” Erestor offered.

“That sounds as if it might acceptable. Pull it out,” Thorin ordered.

Turning to the wall Erestor smirked slightly to himself and pulled the rose-sandalwood mix off the shelf.

The soap was passed around so the dwarves could smell it.

“I suppose it will have to do,” Thorin growled.

“I will take the tea scented soap, I think, Erestor,” Gandalf requested.

“Tea?” Dori asked in interest.

This was passed around as well. Most of the dwarves chose it for its milder scent. Thorin decided to use the sandalwood soap. He disliked smelling like food. It just made him hungry the whole time.

When the dwarves started stripping Erestor made a hasty retreat. He was sure they were going to make a terrible mess of the room. He was also sure remaining would not make that much of a difference and he _really_ did not want to see naked dwarf.

Gandalf washed quickly and left to speak with the lord of Rivendell.

After they had finished washing, and had a water fight, some of the dwarves moved to investigate the 'Wall of Scents.'

“Flowers. Flowers. Why would you want to smell like grass? Flowers. Oh! This one smells like honey!” said Fili.

“This one smells like chocolate!” Kili said and placed a small bit on his tongue. “Bleh!” he pulled a disgusted face. “Doesn't taste like it though!”

The dwarves roared with laughter.

Bifur brought a jar over to Bofur and they both smelt the jar the other had been holding. Looking a little rueful Bofur held up the jars and said, “I think we have been had, lads. This one smells like a campfire, and this one smells like leather.”

“And this one smells like the first one that elf pulled off the shelf without the flowery part,” frowned Kili.

“Elves,” growled Thorin.

“Maybe he donna' know the difference between 'elf maid' 'n 'no' elf maid',” said Gloin. “They all look like females.”

Most of the dwarves nodded in agreement.

 

oOoOoOo

 

After delivering the hobbit and her dwarf companion into Arwen’s keeping in the Maiden’s Quarters, Lord Elrond journeyed to his own rooms to bathe and change his armor out for more appropriate clothing. Once there, he gave one of his attendants special instructions on readying rooms for the dwarves’ stay.

“Please remove all the valuable furniture and fragile decor from the suite. Let us give them as few opportunities to be destructive as possible,” the Elf Lord said.

The attendant bowed and set off to do his lord’s bidding.

Lord Elrond of Rivendell had a reputation for being a gracious host and that would not change for the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, but this was not the Elf Lord’s first experience with dwarves!

 

oOoOoOo

  
  
An hour after Erestor had left, he returned to see that his expectations had been met. The dwarves were all dressed, thank Varda, but there were piles of damp towels and water all over the floor. They had moved jars and bottles around on the shelves. None of them appeared to be broken though.

The elf first led the dwarves to the rooms that had been allotted to them. They entered from a walkway that had a low wall on the right with many arches going up to the ceiling that bordered a large garden. Inside the suite was a large circular common area in the center that had four doors on each side. Opposite the garden entrance was a large balcony that looked over the valley. Next to the balcony on the right side was a landing with stairs leading up and down to two other landings where the staircase twisted out of sight.

“You may leave your packs here. All the rooms in this suite are for your use during your stay,” the elf told them. He also informed them that Gandalf had claimed the first room on the left, so all the dwarves placed their packs together in the first on the right.

“What of the other two members of our party?” Thorin asked.

“I suppose they may choose for themselves whether they wish to stay in the Maidens’ Quarters or join you here,” the elf offered, then led the group to the dining hall.

They were not the last to arrive. Looking around Thorin noticed that the two young women of his party were not present. He hoped that it was not a trick of the elves but just because of the seemingly universal need for females to take an eternity to dress.

The dining table was U shaped with a stone pedestal in between the two prongs. A small group of musicians were playing in the open area opposite the head table which formed the bottom of the U. Thorin was led to a seat at the head table while the other dwarves were led to one of the side tables. He had been given the place to the left of the large chair reserved for the lord, which was still empty. As was the chair on his other side.

Thorin caught sight of Gandalf entering with Lord Elrond on the other side of the room. The Elf Lord had replaced his armor with gold colored tunic, trousers, and robe. They both nodded to Thorin in greeting as they took their seats.

“I see we are still waiting on the ladies,” Elrond sighed.

“They are ladies. No doubt Bilba has lingered over comforts she is unused to doing without and Arwen is being an accommodating hostess. I'm sure they will be along soon,” Gandalf said.

Sure enough several minutes later a group of females entered the hall. One of the serving elves stopped them for a moment. After a few words were exchanged he led Ori over to where her brothers were sitting. They immediately pulled her down onto the bench between them. She was looked over for any injury and then questioned.

Thorin watched to make sure the brothers were satisfied with their sister's condition. He wanted to be prepared if there were any wrongs to be avenged. His attention was drawn away when the other males at the high table stood. Seeing the group of females were moving to fill the empty seats at the table, Thorin stood as well. The two seats to his left were still empty so it seemed he would be sitting by some of them. He hoped one was the hobbit. Looking for her he thought he caught a glimpse of brown curls between the elves heading in his direction.

Thorin was speechless when he finally got a clear view of the hobbit. She was wearing a blue dress with white pinstripes and lace. The dress was accented with a dark blue collar as well as a matching panel down the center of the bodice and matching ribbons on the hems. The collar and bodice were both embroidered with white flowers, and he wondered if it was her own work. The dress was pretty and for some reason brought to mind the dream he had had of her being in Ered Luin. This made him wish very much to see her in clothes crafted by his people.

It was not her dress that had amazed him though. It was her hair! It had been washed and combed into many shining ringlets. The curls on the top front of her head had been shaped into waves, while the sides had been pinned the back under more ringlets, and when she turned her head he saw ribbons that matched her dress had been woven in here and there. It was a very _elvish_ style for her gleaming curls, though that did not detract from her beauty. He was sure his sister's maid could come up with something more elaborate, similar to how dwarf ladies wore their hair, that would show off her curls better.

Realizing he might be staring at the burglar, the King-in-Exile cleared his throat and looked the other way. His heart was racing, his breathing was irregular, and he had to fight down a blush. Thorin didn't know what was wrong with himself! However, he could not resist looking back.

Thorin had never wanted to touch anyone's hair this badly before. The hobbit had been beautiful even when she had been covered in troll snot. Now? Now. She. Was. _Stunning!_

Bilba smiled at him and took the seat to his left. She thought Thorin cleaned up well, even if he _had_ re-donned his armored tunic and the blue velvet Dori had made. They did look slightly cleaner though. What was that? Bilba took a deep breath in through her nose. Had he used the rose-sandalwood mixture? It smelled that way. She surprised herself by wanting to pull his locks to her face and smell them to find out!

The table where the rest of the dwarves were sitting had quite a bit of elbowing and smirking as more than one dwarf enjoyed watching their King's reaction to Bilba.

Elrond introduced the Dwarf King to his daughter, Arwen, a dark haired elf maid that took the seat on the other side of the hobbit. Thorin took little notice of her, most of his attention still claimed by the beauty at his side, though he tried not to stare.

“I am sorry we are late, Ada,” the elf maid said.

“I am afraid our tardiness is my fault, Lord Elrond,” Bilba admitted. “Your daughter, her maids, and Ori were all helping me untangle my hair. It was quite a bird's nest!”

“She was talking about cutting off!” Arwen said sounding appalled.

Those in earshot, including Thorin, gasped in horror.

“I could not let such a tragedy occur, and thought you would forgive our tardiness for such a good cause,” she continued.

“Rest assured you are all forgiven. Truly it _would_ be a tragedy if you were to cut your hair, Bilba.”

 _'Well, it seems the elves have_ some _sense,'_ Thorin thought.

“My hair has never looked so fine before. I am truly grateful for their efforts.”

“You look very nice,” Thorin told her.

“Thank you,” Bilba blushed and smiled shyly up at him through her eyelashes. Her hands reached up to play with one of the curls on her right side. Thorin's hands itched to join them.

Neither saw Gandalf and Elrond look at each other and roll their eyes. Both thought he could have picked a better word than _'nice'!_

Elrond leaned over and whispered in the wizard's ear, “You have your work cut out for you.”

The Grey Wizard nodded.

Arwen had also noticed the dwarf's response to her new friend's appearance and her response to him. Looking at her father and Mithrandir she passed a quick and pointed glance over the dwarf and hobbit then raised her eyebrows at the two tall males in silent question. The wizard smiled and her father reluctantly nodded.

And so, two elves joined Gandalf in his effort to bring Thorin and Bilba together.

During dinner, Thorin and Gandalf both let Lord Elrond examine the swords they found in the troll hoard.

“This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well,” Elrond said handing it back to the Dwarf King.

Thorin nodded in thanks. He was genuinely surprised the Elf Lord returned such a famous elven blade to him. He had expected him to claim it back for his people.

“And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age,” Elrond informed them.

Bilba also told her story to Elrond and Arwen. Both were horrified. Thorin was too, especially as he was hearing it from her own mouth this time, but he was also impressed that nowhere in her tale did she mention the dwarves' objective on their quest.

As the meal proceeded the dwarves grew more restless when no meat appeared, though Bilba saw that they were having fun at Kili's expense somehow. She was confused when she saw Oin stuff his napkin down his hearing trumpet. She was appalled when the food fight broke out, as were the elves. The musicians even stopped playing.

“I'm glad I asked Gandalf what dwarves like to eat if this is how you behave when you don't get any meat!” Bilba leaned over and scolded. “Your lot made enough of a mess in my home as it was!” She breathed in and out harshly through her nose. _'Oh, yes he had definitely used the rose-sandalwood soap.'_

Thorin snorted but did nothing to try to curb their behavior. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself! It really was unfair that he was so attractive yet so inconsiderate!

That was when Bofur jumped over the table and up onto the stone pedestal in the center of the room and proceeded to sing. It was a merry song Bilba had written a few years before to cheer her father. She'd taught it to the dwarves on their journey. They were very enthusiastic in their enjoyment of it both then and now. Bilba just wasn't sure this was the best way to go about sharing it with the elves.

 

oOoOoOo

 

After Gandalf convinced Thorin, despite Balin's objection, to show his map to the elf, Lord Elrond was able to tell the dwarf it contained moon runes. However, the moon needed to read them would not rise for five more days.

“You are welcome to rest here in Rivendell and I will read the runes for you when the time comes,” Elrond offered.

Taking a deep breath Thorin reluctantly told him, “We accept.”

“Bilba,” the Lord of Rivendell addressed her, “you may choose to stay in the Maidens' Quarters or you may stay with your companions in the rooms they have been given.”

The small growling noise Thorin made at the first option told Bilba his preference.

“I think my companions would feel slightly more comfortable were I near them. Who knows? Maybe it will help improve their behavior!”

“You are not responsible for them,” Elrond told her. “That said, any help you can provide in that regard would be appreciated.”

The dwarves were, of course, less than amused.

 

oOoOoOo

 

After they had destroyed some of the furniture to cook a dinner that was more to their tastes, i.e. meat, the males had dragged the mattresses from six of the rooms out into the common area to sleep and, though they hadn’t said it, to guard the two females. They were surprised when Lady Arwen appeared with her two handmaidens and asked to speak with Bilba.

“Why do ye want ta do that?” demanded Dwalin.

“Because she is my friend,” Arwen answered him.

“The friendship of elves,” scoffed Thorin.

“Lord Elrond has offered you food and a safe place to rest and you would call _us_ unfriendly?” asked Harneth.

“It is alright, Harneth. One meal and a bed are not enough to change their opinions,” Arwen admonished.

Bilba and Ori had heard the voices of elves and popped their heads out their door. Seeing who it was the hobbit invited them into the room she and Ori had decided to share. Arwen and Harneth entered and shut the door. Laegil took up a place just outside it.

Kili couldn’t resist trying to make conversation with the now lone elf. Fili followed and Thorin stayed nearby to keep an eye on his nephews. Dwalin stayed nearby to keep an eye on the elf.

Inside the bedchamber Bilba greeted her guests, “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight.”

“I wanted to make sure you are alright,” Arwen told her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bilba inquired confused.

“I was concerned after hearing your story tonight. Intimacy is one form of marriage for elves, so being forced in such a manner is one of the most horrifying things that could happen to us. It is one reason we have Maidens’ Quarters where no men are allowed. It is some place we can go where we can be assured of safety.”

“That occurs among the elves?” asked the hobbit.

“It is very, very rare for an elf to attempt such a thing, it is true, but it has happened before. No race is immune to evil’s call. You may have noted I do not go anywhere outside the Maidens’ Quarters without my ladies-in-waiting. They are many things to me, including chaperons and bodyguards.”

“If it did happen by force would you still be married?”

“Yes, though if it can be proven, and there are elves with the ability to find out such things, the elf who forced another would forfeit their life, freeing the victim," Arwen informed them. "It is the only circumstance I am aware of that allows an elf to marry twice. Similar to dwarves, we only love once in our lives.”

Bilba knew she was ignorant in much of the ways of intimacy. What had happened that night with Willoughby Boffin was the extent of her personal experience, and her father’s library had not contained any books that were explicit about such things. Not that he would have permitted her to read such literature. She didn’t know what it all entailed, but if Dwalin had not arrived when he did, Willoughby perhaps would not have stopped. Were she an elf, he may have forced her into that sort of marriage. That had been what he had wanted isn’t it? Marriage to her. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

Bilba looked up into Arwen’s eyes and seeing the compassion in them was too much. She had been distracting herself with the dwarves and their adventure, but no more.

Seeing the dam breaking, Arwen sank to her knees and, letting out a cry, the hobbit threw herself into her arms and sobbed.

Bilba’s cry had carried through the door to the dwarves. Alarmed they gave a shout and quickly all twelve protective males and the third elf ran into the room.

Dwalin had both axes drawn, ready to strike. The two ladies-in-waiting stepped between the dwarves and their charge, each dual wielding daggers that had been concealed in their robes.

“Lass, are ye injured?” Dwalin asked.

She shook her head no.

“What did you do to her?” Thorin demanded.

Surprisingly it was Ori that stepped forward. “They aren’t hurting her.” Laying a hand on one of Dwalin’s arms, she encourage him to lower his axes.

“Then why is she crying?” Thorin pressed gruffly.

Bilba sobbed harder, in part now due to embarrassment.

“All due respect, Your Majesty, GET OUT! ALL OF YOU!” Ori yelled.

Shocked at the shy dwarf _yelling_ at them, they actually obeyed. Ori and Harneth followed. The elf took up the place next to the door.

When they were all back in the common area Ori explained. “Now, Lady Arwen is helping Bilba deal with what that beardless cur back in the Shire did to her. She is _not_ hurting her. She is helping her heal.”

Gandalf and Balin nodded in understanding.

“But,” said Fili, “that was more than a month ago. Bilba’s been just fine!”

“That’s because she has been focused on you lot, your quest, and all the new things she has been experiencing,” explained the wizard.

“She has been trying to forget, or at least not think about what happened, but she does need to deal with it,” Balin pointed out.

“Let the women folk help her with that, even if they are elves,” Gloin said. Bomber nodded in agreement.

“Why them? Why can’t we help?” pouted Kili.

“When was the last time _you_ were worried about being raped?” Ori asked.

“Oh. Right,” conceded the archer looking uncomfortable.

All the dwarves had flinched at her blunt language.

“There may be a way you can help,” said Gandalf. “Bilba may be a little jumpy for a while. Just make sure you respect her space. You don’t want to overwhelm her. She might need time to acclimate herself to traveling in the presence of so many males again.”

The dwarves nodded and most sought their chosen places on the mattresses. Ori returned to her room, and the elves stayed through the night.

 

oOoOoOo


	12. The Company's Stay in Rivendell Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important events begin to occur in Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation Elrond and Gandalf have in the movie about the madness in Thorin's family does not lead into the White Council meeting.
> 
> I see Arwen as being a tiny bit of an empath, this showed her that Bilba needed help and helps her help Bilba to heal.
> 
> For this story, I'm saying all the mortal races age about the same for the first 5 years or so. After that the aging slows for longer lived races like hobbit and dwarf. Cuz really, who would want to have the Terrible Twos last for five+ years?
> 
> Erestor is filling Lindir's position in the movie. I made Lindir the scholar in charge of the library/archive. I have included the fountain scene from the extended addition. If you haven't seen it for some reason, go watch it! I suppose you could look up the deleted scenes on youtube if you have to.
> 
> Quite a bit of this chapter uses canon lore. I've just taken it and played with it to fit with what I want. And made up a whole lot to go with it. I hope it isn't too confusing for any Tolkien experts.
> 
> Also a little Doctor Who reference.

 oOoOoOo

Tonight he was standing at the gates of the Erebor he remembered from his youth. Looking down to his left he saw that Bilba stood with him, her right arm entwined with his left, waiting for him to escort her around the mountain.

She was amazed to see the River Running flowing out of the stone near the Front Gate. She marveled at the gate’s craftsmanship and that of the tall statues carved out of the mountain on either side.

He guided her around the Guild District that held all the guild halls. She was fascinated to see that there were so many.

He showed her the Great Anvil that was used for special or large projects. She was awestruck at its size.

They walked around the bustling Market District and she admired the crafts wrought by his people's hands.

He showed her to the place in the Great Chamber of Thror, the hall of feasting and council, where water exited rock to begin the river that poured from the mountain's entrance. They enjoyed a merry meal at the High Table where he had shared many meals with his family.

Afterwards, Thorin led her down to some of the less publicly traveled levels. She was fascinated by the vast caves full of mushrooms and the lakes with cave fish and crabs, though she was a little unnerved by the bats above and the pits full of cave snakes. He explained that all these were a supplement to the food they traded for and their food supply in case of a siege.

The entire time Bilba's attention never wavered. She laughed merrily, praised the craftsmanship she saw, and seemed eager to learn about his people, his home, everything that was important to him, all he had devoted his life to.

Thorin slept peacefully through the night, but upon waking his longing for Erebor was as fierce as he had ever felt. He was surprised to find his desire to give such a tour to the hobbit was just as intense.

oOoOoOo

Early in the morning, Bilba and Ori joined the three elves on the dwarves’ balcony to watch the rising sun's rays begin lighting the valley.

“Do you feel better?” Arwen asked.

Bilba had cried in her arms off and on for several hours. Between the tears, they had spoken of what Bilba had experienced. Arwen had made sure Bilba did not place any blame on herself and helped her see that just because such a thing had happened to her, it does not mean she is weak.

“Yes, thank you. I guess I needed someone to force me to confront it.”

“I am pleased I could help. Though I am sorry that the healing is painful.”

They sat in silence for sometime before the hobbit recalled something Arwen had said the previous night.

“So, is there someone special that Harneth and Laegil have to chaperon?” Bilba said wagging her eyebrows.

The three elves’ expressions gave Bilba a good idea as to the answer.

Harneth scowled. Laegil sighed and rolled her eyes. Arwen was practically glowing.

“There is,” she confirmed.

Until the other dwarves began to stir, Bilba and Ori listened to Arwen talk about her One, a tall handsome man with keen grey eyes who was the Chieftain of the Dunedain, and like Thorin, an exiled would-be king. He was a skilled fighter, a good man, and a bit more heavily muscled than elf males are. The three of them had giggled together over that.

oOoOoOo

It was while the dwarves were preparing for breakfast that Bilba noticed their odd behavior. None of them would quite meet her eye and they were keeping their distance.

Pulling Ori aside she asked, “What did you say to them?”

“Just that Lady Arwen was helping you deal with what had happened and she wasn't hurting you.”

It was an improvement that they didn't throw any of Lord Elrond's food around this time, but their behavior towards her didn't change through breakfast. Nor did it change afterwards when they returned to their rooms to evaluate what supplies and gear they had left after losing the ponies and examine everything in case repairs were needed. It was the last straw when _Dwalin_ of all people seemed to shy away from her!

“What is wrong with all of you?!” she shouted at them.

“Tharkun, er Gandalf said ye might be a wee jumpy and we was ta respect yer space so as ta not make ye uncomfortable,” said Dwalin.

“Let me get this straight. You are practically avoiding me because you don't want me to be afraid of you?”

“Er, yes?”

Bilba covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply. She wondered where the wizard had gone. She needed to give him a talking to.

“I am not afraid of you, any of you, but especially not you, Dwalin.”

“Why not 'im? He's the most intimidatin' one o' the group,” Bofur asked.

“Because he _saved_ me! His actions when he rescued me show quite well what he thinks of such behavior. I do not believe that any of you would try to hurt me.”

“Did you think that whelp would?” Thorin asked.

“Well, no, but he was, what did Arwen call it? Emotionally abusive? I didn't care two figs what he thought about me, so he never hurt me that way, though. I tolerated him out of politeness. I actually like you lot well enough,” she smiled.

“That would just be a bigger betrayal if one of us were to try anything,” Balin said.

“Are any of you going to try anything against my will?” she inquired.

There were a lot of 'No!'s and violent shaking of heads.

“And if anyone was so stupid as to try, Thorin would kill them!” Fili exclaimed.

“And Dwalin would help!” added Kili.

“Don't forget about me! I'd help kill 'em too!” declared Ori.

“And me!” said Bofur.

Bifur growled something and raised a fist and shook it.

“I think it is safe to say, lass, if anyone was to try to hurt you like that again, be it one of the company or not, we would protect you and see to it that he was... justly punished,” Balin said.

“You are all very sweet. It is concern like this that proves to me that you are trustworthy and that I am safe with you. The best thing you can do right now for me is to act normal! Be yourselves!”

“Really? You sure?” asked Kili.

“Yes!”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed and stripped down to his trousers. “Ah! Much better!”

They watched for her reaction. She blushed, but she didn't shy away from him. When she didn't freak out Fili, Bofur, and Nori followed suit.

“Do you normally walk around the house without a tunic?” Bilba asked them.

Some form of 'Yes' or 'Yes, they do' came from every single dwarf, or in Bifur's case an affirmative sounding grunt.

When Bilba laughed, they all relaxed and went back to their tasks. At some point each dwarf removed their gear down to their tunic and trousers.

After midday, Dwalin dragged Bilba and the two Princes to the balcony for fighting practice. Something that he would find time for every day they spent in Rivendell. Ori decided to join them, and Dwalin let her practice fighting with his war hammer. When Bilba was drenched with sweat and could hardly move her arms the burly dwarf released them.

“I'm going to go take a bath before dinner,” Bilba said.

“But you took a bath last night!” exclaimed Kili.

“Yes, and now I am all sweaty.”

“So?”

“So, I need a wash.”

“You take a bath every time you get sweaty?” asked Fili.

“Is this a cultural difference, a gender difference, or personal preference?” Bilba wondered.

“Personal preference mostly on their part,” their uncle said. “Although, if we bathed after every time we had gotten sweaty we would be taking four or five baths a day on a regular basis. That is another reason we often do strenuous activities wearing minimal clothing. These two have never enjoyed bathing simply for the sake of hygiene. I am still hoping they will grow out of it.”

“Well, back in the Shire I would have a bit of a wash everyday. I like to be clean, and now that we are in a place with a bath, I am going to take full advantage of it!”

“You are not going alone,” Thorin declared.

“I will go with her,” Ori immediately said.

Rolling her eyes and muttering about paranoid dwarves, Bilba turned and walked off. Ori followed. Returning to their room, they found that their cleaned clothes had been delivered.

“Oh, excellent!”

Thorin ordered Dori and Bifur to go with them to make sure they made it to the Maiden's Quarters and back alright. Bilba sighed, but allowed it because it might make the dwarves less rude and destructive. The two dwarves sat outside the ornate door while the two females bathed.

oOoOoOo

Later that evening, Bilba announced she was going to explore Rivendell.

“You are not wandering around by yourself!” Thorin objected once again.

Dori and Nori had ushered Ori off somewhere.

“If you don't like it, then you may accompany me, but I _am_ going!” she declared, then turned and headed out the door to begin her exploring. He would either follow or not.

He followed.

Bilba and Thorin were standing on one of the many balconies in the elven city when Elrond and Gandalf walked below. Their conversation about the madness that ran in Thorin's family carried up to them. Bilba felt awkward and she could tell from Thorin's reaction to the overheard words that he was pained to be doubted so, even if it was an elf, and that it was something he himself feared.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him gently.

He considered it for a moment before beginning to speak, surprised to find that, yes, he did want to tell her about this. “My grandfather's mind fell to a madness known as gold sickness or dragon sickness. It is a deep obsession with gold and other valuables. Before Erebor fell, there were times he would spend days in the Treasury just looking at the gold without leaving. Not for food or for drink. I do not think he even slept while he was in there. When he would finally emerge he was impossible to reason with for days. The longer this went on, the less rational he became. Losing our home did not improve his condition. With the treasures of Erebor lost to him, he became obsessed with reclaiming our ancient home in Khazad-dum from the orcs and goblins that now desecrate its halls. My grandfather gave my father the symbols of office and ceased putting the fate of our people first. He kept mostly to himself where he planned a war that led to not only his death and the death of my brother, but that of thousands of dwarves numbering from all seven clans.”

“That night in my home you sang of reclaiming your lost gold. Is that what this quest is about or is it to reclaim a home for your people so that they may have better lives?”

“I want a better life for my people than digging coal.”

“If the treasure just disappeared, would you still want the mountain for your people?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Its fortifications are more secure and there are more resources for my people to mine. After receiving the symbols of office, my father began the project of rebuilding the ancient dwarven city of Belegost in the Blue Mountains for our people to inhabit. It had been ruined in the First Age. Nearly a hundred-fifty years later and still we can not reach the deep mines the ancient dwarves used to use, where all the precious minerals and gems are. Many of my people have had to eke out a living mining the coal that is much closer to the surface.”

“Why can't you reach them?”

“Most are quite literally buried by tons upon tons of rock. By understandable necessity we had to prioritize repairing living quarters and the like to survive winters and build fortifications for safety. When those projects achieved an acceptable level, we began working on digging the deeper levels out, but that means pulling miners away from the active coal mines. It is a balancing act to make progress excavating the old mines while leaving enough workers to mine enough coal to support the people. Then there are the mines that are not blocked by rock. Those are flooded. We have tried draining them, but they keep filling back up. The engineers are working on a new way to remove the water.”

“What if Erebor is now more damaged because of the dragon than your home in Ered Luin is?”

“That is highly unlikely as long as the mountain stands. Belegost was ruined in the War of Wrath when a great wave of the sea covered the area and portions of the mountain range were destroyed. Portions larger than the Lonely Mountain itself. The city lies along the border of what was devastated. As much as we can tell, at least half the city was completely destroyed. Some of the rubble blocking the deep mines are the remnants of that part of the city. The rest comes from the mountains that had once stood above it, protecting it from the outside world.”

“So, the Lonely Mountain would provide better opportunities for your people to prosper in crafting and trade even without the gold that lies in the Treasury.”

“Yes.”

“And your father? Balin said he was driven mad by grief.”

“Yes. The loss of my grandfather and younger brother were too much for him. I still do not know his fate beyond the day of the battle. I have looked and followed every rumor, to no avail.”

“I am sorry. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to not know.”

Thorin nodded in acknowledgment.

“I think Lord Elrond sees a parallel between your grandfather's obsession with reclaiming Khazad-dum and your determination to reclaim Erebor and fears you will throw away lives trying to do it, and if you do succeed he fears you will fall to the allure of the gold as well. Obsession seems to be the key word here. I think the best defense you have against succumbing to your grandfather's fate is to remember why you are doing this, who's lives you are risking, and who you are risking them for. Your people have survived for one hundred and fifty years without Erebor. It may not be a perfect life, or all you hope for them, but they are alive and they will still live if the quest is not successful. And no amount of gold would ever replace your nephews. You seem fond of them despite their... enthusiasm,” she smiled at him.

He nodded in agreement.

“A good leader is more important to a people's fate than riches. Your people's fate would not have been the same if you and your father hadn't been there. Gold can only help you take care of your people. It can not do it for you. It is a tool of survival, but it does no good to the dead.”

“That is… very wise.” Thorin said more than a little thrown.

“You sound surprised,” Bilba said wryly.

“Hobbits are not known for their wisdom.”

“Dwarves aren’t known for their manners yet Balin seems to possess them.”

“Just Balin?”

“Well, Ori, Dori, Bifur, and Bombur occasionally display good manners,” she smirked at him.

“Does that mean there are a few other hobbits that are wise?”

“Hmm… There are several ways I could answer that! The long answer involves an explanation about how there are different types of wisdom and how many hobbits possess one certain type, but it is not what most would consider wisdom. My father was also a good man and my mother was a remarkable woman. I learned much from them.”

“What is the short answer?”

“I can read.”

“Is literacy uncommon in the Shire?”

“Most can read and write their own names and recognize commonly used words like ‘ale’ or ‘flour’ on labels, but actually be able to read something like a book? No, that is not so common. What about dwarves?”

“Every dwarf is taught to read and write several languages. We have to be able to read to learn our crafts and write in order to obtain a Mastery in them.”

“How does that work? Obtaining a Mastery?”

“To gain a Mastery we have to craft a project that demonstrates our skill and document its creation. Then we present the project and the documentation to the heads of the appropriate crafting guild for assessment. If they judge it of sufficient skill, then they grant you your Mastery.”

“I suppose that make sense,” Bilba reasoned. “Do you have a Mastery?”

“I do,” Thorin affirmed.

“What did you do for your Mastery project?”

“I made the throwing axes Fili carries.”

Thorin had designed the weapons himself. The hobbit, of course, did not understand how complicated such a project actually was. Throwing axes were even more difficult to craft than they were to wield effectively. There were more balancing issues and such to take into account for with axes. The heads of the Blacksmiths Guild had been impressed that he had completed such a difficult craft and so young, but they would not deny the skill he had had to employ create the weapons. So, at fifty-three he was the youngest dwarf to become a Master Blacksmith in more than three hundred years, mere months before he had taken on the mantle of king.

“I originally crafted them for my brother, Frerin. He only had one opportunity to wear them into battle, the one in which he was killed. After his death my mother kept them displayed in our family’s common room. When Fili expressed an interest in learning how to wield throwing axes too, we decided to give them to him as a gift when he became Battle Ready.” Thorin said.

“I think your brother would be pleased to know his nephew now carried the weapons you put so much effort into crafting for him,” Bilba told him.

“Yes, I believe he would be.”

“Will you tell me about him? If it’s not too painful, of course.”

“Fili and Kili are very much like Frerin was. Young, jovial, fearless. His preferred weapon was the bow like Kili, but he was also a walking armory like Fili. He would do anything to make us smile. My serious nature made that difficult for him at times.”

“Perhaps that is more a product of the order of your birth. You, as the first born had certain expectations to meet, while your brother did not have the same pressure. Fili may be cheerful, but I can see a marked difference between him and Kili. The weight of the line of succession seems a reasonable explanation.”

“Perhaps,” he said. They stood together in silence for a few minutes before Thorin returned them back to an earlier topic. “Is the Thain a hobbit who might be considered wise?”

“My grandfather insist that in his entire life he has never met anyone that isn't important,” she said softly.

For a people that viewed females as less than the males, Thorin could understand how much that belief could mean to the hobbit lass standing next to him.

“Yes,” she continued, “I would consider my grandfather wise. Still worried about relations between our peoples?”

Thorin nodded.

“If you are that worried about it, get in my grandmother's good graces. My grandfather adores her and has gone to great lengths to please her before. If you offend her, however, I can almost guarantee the relations between our peoples would suffer. They are both very amiable, though, so I really don’t think you have anything to fear.”

“Would letting you travel with us be enough to offend your grandmother?” Thorin inquired. 

“Unlikely. I left a letter explaining I was leaving of my own free will. She will understand.”

“Is your grandfather the one who would have forced you to marry that brute?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“In the Shire females are possessions. We belong to our fathers until we marry, then we belong to our husbands. We can’t own property. When my father died it left me in a bit of a precarious position. As his only child the entire estate should have passed to my husband. Since I am unmarried it would instead pass to my father’s nearest male relation, except for a clause in the will. I had thought, perhaps _hoped_ , that my father would be able to leave everything to my grandfather and I could continue running the estate just in his name. Instead I have a year from my father’s death to marry or forfeit everything to my father’s despised brother and his wife, whom would have no problem turning me out of Bag End with nothing. That, or make me nothing more than servant in their household, dependent on them for every morsel of food, every scrap of clothing.

“I do see now that my father and grandfather were trying to protect me in their own way. You might say, by Shire law, I’m part of the estate, at least until the deadline. After that I’m not sure, but I would rather everything else go to my uncle, even if I doubt he and his wife will care for the tenants as they should, than marry someone I did not consider at least a friend, even before what happened that night. It may sound selfish and silly to you considering all you are risking to reclaim your home, but I want to be an equal partner in my marriage. I do not need a keeper and I do _not_ want to be someone’s live-in cook, maid, and broodmare.”

“That does not seem selfish or silly at all. If that lout would treat the woman he hopes to marry so poorly, I do not believe he would have been a fit master for your tenants. And though political marriages _do_ occur now and then among dwarves, we usually marry for love or not at all. I suppose that is the only positive thing about becoming king so young. My mother and counselors encouraged me to choose a wife after I became an adult, but there was no one who could actually _force_ me to marry. It has always been my own choice.”

“Gloin told me your kind only loves once. You call them your One. That sounds terribly romantic. I don’t mean to make hobbit marriages sound cold,” Bilba rushed to add. “They aren’t. Most _are_ love matches. My parents were head over heels in love with each other. They had wanted to marry as soon as my mother came of age, but my grandfather made them wait. She was his favorite child, you see, so he wanted to make sure my father was worthy of her. My grandfather tasked my father with building her a home as comfortable as the Great Smials she had grown up in. So, he built Bag End for her.”

“Is it common for a suitor to be given a task to prove their worthiness and devotion?”

“Sometimes. Any father could set a task, but it usually depends on the the positions in society the prospective couple holds. I suppose you could compare my father’s position to that of a noble. My mother, as the daughter of the Thain-”

“Was a princess,” Thorin interjected.

“As the favored daughter of the Thain,” Bilba rolled her eyes and continued, “she was socially superior to him so it was expected for my grandfather to set a task for him to complete before they were permitted to marry. Do dwarves do anything like that?”

“We do have courting rituals of our own,” Thorin confirmed. “One of the most important of which is to create something with with our chosen craft for our intended.”

“That makes sense for a race of crafters,” Bilba nodded. “How do dwarves choose a craft to learn?”

“We are visited in school by the Crafting Guilds when we are very young and they show the different crafts involved in their respective guilds. We are drawn to whatever our craft should be. Like finding our Ones, we just know when it is the right one. It is difficult to explain to anyone not a dwarf.”

“How young are you when you start learning your crafts?”

“As soon as we find which craft calls to us. The only requirement is to know how to read. That is usually between five and seven years of age. We usually start battle training around that time as well.”

“That seems very young for crafting and fighting! Isn’t it dangerous?”

“No, we start off reading books and scrolls and watching demonstrations the Guilds put on. Depending on the craft of course, it could be years before we actually create anything. As for the fighting, we do not start off wielding real weapons!”

“Right. Of course. You wouldn’t give real weapons to children.”

“No, we hold our dwarflings too dear to risk them maiming themselves or worse so young.”

Bilba nodded then she smiled to herself and let out a light laugh.

“What is so amusing?”

“I was just thinking about little Fili and Kili. Two little trouble makers running around the mountain. I imagine they were quite a handful!”

“They still are,” Thorin made a sound that was a cross between a groan and a chuckle. “I remember once when when they were very young they came to visit me in my office. They asked, with those big puppy dog eyes all children seem to have, if they could practice their braiding on my hair. I was only working on paperwork in my office and did not have any meetings planned for the rest of the day so I gave them permission.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Nodding Thorin said, “Using around twenty braids they made me a crown that stood up about four inches from my head all the way around.” He made a circling gesture around the top of his head. “There were six braids on the back of my head that just stuck up and out, like rays of rising the sun. It was impressive. It would have been more impressive had they used the styling wax meant to be used for such elaborate coiffure.”

“Oh, no! What did they use?” Bilba giggled.

“A type of finishing polish usually used on stone architecture because it hardens when it dries and it dries quickly,” Thorin said ruefully.

Bilba burst out laughing.

“I had to turn sideways and duck to pass through nearly every doorway. It took _hours_ to wash it out. My mother was alternating between taking deep breaths and holding it, in an effort to keep from laughing. I thought she was going to pass out. Dis and Dwalin laughed so hard they had to hold each other up. Balin did not even try to hold it in either. After that, I made sure to check anything they wanted to use on my hair.”

“I’m a bit surprised you let them practice on you again.”

“I came to enjoy it, usually. It was worth the silly hairstyles to see my counselors reactions. They would try to give their reports to me while trying not to pay attention to my hair. Some of the stuffier ones would have this horrified look on their faces, while others, like Balin, would try to fight down their amusement enough to be able to speak.”

She tried imagining this dwarf with odd dwarfling-induced hairstyles. For some reason the image of him sitting beneath the Party Tree surrounded by faunts playing with his hair popped into her mind. She thought he could pull both instances off and _still_ look as regal as he did right now surveying Rivendell and the valley below.

“So, you _do_ have a sense of humor!” she giggled. 

“If it is at the expense of my council absolutely!” Thorin grinned.

“I can just imagine you sitting there looking all majestic and serious, your expression daring them to laugh at whatever silly do the little troublemakers gave you and you would see if they could get through what they needed to say!”

“Majestic?” Thorin asked, flattered at her use of the word.

“Yes, you do it very well.”

“Do I?” Thorin gave the hobbit a half smirk. “When?”

Bilba laughed, “You are doing it right now! Did you take lessons when you were younger?”

“How to Look Majestic. Sounds far more interesting than what most of my actual education was. Kili might pay attention to lessons like that.”

“I think he does,” Bilba smiled gently at him. “I think Fili and Kili get lessons by watching you. Maybe you learned by watching your father or grandfather when you were little. Anyways, that was a wonderful story, though I am still surprised you let them do that. Isn't your hair very important to you?”

“It is. Our hair and beards are our pride.”

“Insulting a dwarf's beard is a grave insult, yes?”

“Yes, one of the worst to my kind.”

“What is something else that would be nearly as insulting?”

“Well, saying a dwarf has orc ancestry is probably the worst insult. Why so many questions?” Thorin asked.

“I'm trying to understand you. All of you. I don't want to unintentionally offend anyone, and on the off chance I _do_ want to cause insult I want to be able to do it properly,” Bilba smiled cheekily at him. “I'm sure dwarves have more creative insults than hobbits do. One of our worst is 'tater-head'.”

“Tater-head?!” Thorin choked out trying not to laugh.

“Mhmm!” Bilba grinned at him. “Though the one I use most often is 'clot-head', not that I go about insulting folks. It’s mostly just in my head.”

“Have you ever called _me_ a 'clot-head' in your mind?” he turned to her raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, my! Yes! On more than one occasion!”

“Really?” He was a little surprised she admitted it so freely.

“Might I remind you that moments after we met you compared me to a barmaid?” Thorin nodded his head a small rueful smile on his face. “I am a Baggins and a Took and the granddaughter of the Thain! Not a barmaid,” Bilba declared proudly. Then a thoughtful and slightly confused look covered her face.

“What is it?” Thorin asked.

“Well, I will have to find something to do and somewhere to live after all this is over won't I? Maybe I will try doing that, being a barmaid,” she giggled.

“I do not believe you would enjoy it. It might depend on where you wanted to try it, but drunk males of any race can get... hands-y.”

“Hands-y? What is that?”

“Hmm...” he said looking slightly uncomfortable. _Was she really that innocent?_ “That would be something along the lines of the attentions Dwalin saved you from when the two of you met.”

Bilba's eyes went wide and her mouth formed a little 'oh' in surprise.

 _Mahal_ , she _was_ that innocent! That should not be allowed for someone so lovely, if only for her own self preservation! It was fortunate for her the company was comprised of honorable dwarves and not ruffians who would take advantage! Even Nori with his shady occupation was honorable enough company in that regard.

“Is that something barmaids have to deal with often?” she said a little shakily.

“Such behavior may be unusual in the Shire, but out here in the wider world there are many less honorable males that would not hesitate to take advantage where they can, drunk or not. I would wager most women in serving positions encounter such behavior at some point. Sadly, it even happens occasionally among my people, though we hold our females dear.”

“Alright, no serving girl positions after completing this quest.”

“You believe we will be successful so strongly you are starting to make plans?” Thorin asked, a small smile touching his lips.

“I _hope_ we will take your home back. There is no point in us trying if we don't! How can we succeed if we believe the only outcome is failure? I may not know what the future holds for me, but I'm not ready to die just yet. If I thought the only thing I would find with you was death, I would not have come!”

“You know, if we are successful you will have your portion of the treasure to live off of. You will not need to look for work like… like some servant,” Thorin said haughtily.

“I was raised to be useful. I ran my father's estate back in the Shire more and more as his health declined. There were tenants who work the farms to look after, crop rotations to manage, harvests to organize, supplies and upkeep to handle just to start with. There was plenty to do. I certainly didn't sit around all day and stare at a wall! I came to help you reclaim your home because it is the right thing to do. I did not come because of the gold!”

“That is not what I meant to imply,” Thorin interjected.

“Besides,” she demanded poking a single finger into his chest, “people of privilege and responsibility are servants of their own sort if they are doing their duty correctly. Do you not serve your people in your capacity as king? Don't you do things that are for their betterment that you would rather not do?”

Thorin nodded. He did indeed do that often. Council meetings came to mind.

“Servants may take on the mundane everyday chores for you so that you may do more important things, but do not fool yourself,” Bilba continued speaking. “‘King’ is just the position of the highest ranking servant. One that is difficult to dismiss if he does a poor job of it.”

Thorin mentally agreed that was true enough. Assassination, coup, or conquest were not typically easy tasks to accomplish.

“If you want to be a good king – a great king – you have to be a servant too,” Bilba insisted, her hands now on her hips. “From the poorest beggar to the richest noble, from the unborn babes in your women's bellies to the recently departed, you are _their_ servant. It is your responsibility, as best you can, to safeguard their future and see they get a respectful parting from this life and so much more in between. Heavy responsibilities. That is why rulers get many of their privileges, I think, to balance out for all difficult things they must do.”

“I have never thought about it like that before,” Thorin said looking at the hobbit in awe and slightly humbled.

“From what I have seen traveling with you all this way, you are a good leader. I want to see you become a great one. If we retake your mountain, will you just sit on your throne and count your gold or will you  _work_ to make sure your people have the best home Erebor can provide? Will the King Under the Mountain be a servant to his people?” she asked, crossing her arms. Her chin raised in demand for an answer.

“Yes.” Thorin said firmly.

“Good.”

“What do you think keeps me from being a _great_ leader now?” Thorin asked after a few moments of silence.

“Your pride and bitterness, I think.”

“I can not deny I possess those,” the dwarf admitted.

“Oh, don't forget rude, but that may be because of the first two. Anyways, they say recognition is the first step to recovery. Just remember, you do not have to like the elves for them to be allies or even gain aid from them. Not everyone is out to get you. Not everyone wishes dwarves ill will.”

They stood together in silence looking out over the valley for a few minutes more before Thorin spoke again. “You will have a place among my people if you so choose.”

Bilba turned to him and a bright smile grew on her face. “Oh, Thorin! Thank you!”

Thorin's heart stopped for a few seconds at seeing her smile. Then it began to race.

She was so beautiful. He couldn't believe someone so selfless, kind, and intelligent – so _good_ – could exist. His mother would like Bilba. She would make a fine queen. His mind froze at the last thought. He wasn't – he couldn't –! Thorin mentally groaned. He was! He had managed to fall in love with the hobbit without realizing it! She was his One. This was bad! What should he do now? He had no idea how to attract the affections of a female! Maybe he could ask Gloin or Bombur. Maybe Bombur. He was quiet and Thorin might be able to keep him on topic and was less likely to wax poetic about his own wife.

Thorin realized Bilba was still smiling at him. Clearing his throat, he blushed faintly. “You are welcome,” he said a little stiffly.

What was he thinking! He did not have time for distractions like this! But he did like to see her smile at him and he wouldn't mind hearing her say his name like that again. The only way he thought it could be better was if she was moaning it in pleasure. No! He would not let his mind wander in _that_ direction. Of course he desired her. She was beautiful, but there was more to her than that! It was not just about how her eyes shone with merriment, or how generous her curves were, or how he longed to run his hands through her shining curls, or –

_'Oh, bother this distracting hobbit!'_

"Will you do something for me?" Thorin asked trying to distract himself from this new revelation. "If you see signs of my becoming dangerously obsessed or putting gold above the welfare of my people, will you do something to let me know?" Later he would realize this favor he asked was a way of him asking her to remain in his life, and think even his subconscious was working against him.

“That would be a very grave situation, indeed!" Bilba replied. "Let's see. Now this would be bigger than you just being a clot-head on occasion so it needs something with particular emphasis. It has to be something I wouldn't normally do so that you know I'm serious. Hmm... Oh, I know!” she grinned widely at him. “I will ask Bombur if I can borrow his ladle and I will hit you with it! Then you have to _listen_ to my reasons, something you've not shown a great deal of skill in I might add. Do we have a deal?” she said holding out her hand.

“Deal,” he said shaking the outstretched hand. “May I ask that you try to do it in private however?”

“Ah, wouldn't want to damage your position of authority, would we?” she grinned at him. “Alright, I shall do my best.”

“You know, I believe I will be very cautious every time you help Bombur cook now!”

She laughed. “Well, it's not as if I can swing Dwalin's warhammer at you! I also doubt I can hit you hard enough to do much more than get your attention let alone do any actual damage!”

Bilba excused herself to go to bed, but Thorin remained where he was looking out from the balcony. That was where Balin and Dwalin found him quietly panicking. The brothers exchanged a look. They had seen reactions like this before from other dwarves. If it was what they thought it was, they would be very pleased.

“What is it, laddie? You look like you have found your One,” Balin said.

“I have,” Thorin confirmed. 

“Bilba?” the white haired dwarf asked.

The King-in-Exile nodded.

“'Bout time ye realized it. Ye have been showing signs of it since we stayed at the lass' home,” Dwalin said clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.

“What?! I have not!” Thorin objected pulling away, even though his friend's words brought to mind the memory of having to leave her kitchen and go outside and smoke to escape the effect her smile was having on him.

“Yes, ye have.”

“It does not matter. I do not have time for such things. All my attention must be focused on the quest and she is just a distraction.”

“A _distraction!_ ” Dwalin growled taking a menacing step towards him.

Balin stopped him from going any further. He gave his brother and King a considering look. “Sit down lads,” the elder dwarf gestured to some nearby chairs. “I’m going to tell you about something I’ve not told anyone still living.”

Exchanging surprised looks, Thorin and Dwalin did as Balin asked.

“Her name was Saia. She was intelligent and witty. Her hair was a glossy black, her eyes a warm brown and, to me, her smile was as beautiful as the Arkenstone. I knew the first time I saw her that she was my One. She had accompanied her father, the leader of a merchant caravan from the Iron Hills, on a trading expedition to Erebor. I was the captain on duty when they crossed the gates. When her party was settled in, she came and found me and told me I was her One as well. We decided to delay in telling our families and get to know each other, just the two of us, without the commotion of relatives,” Balin smiled a gentle apology to Dwalin who nodded his forgiveness. “We spent as much time together as our duties would allow. I learned that Saia had asked her father to be allowed to accompany him and her four older brothers on this expedition as a gift upon reaching Adulthood so that she could see the great kingdom of Erebor.”

“What happened? Why is this the first we are hearing of her?” Dwalin asked.

“A little more than a week after we met Smaug attacked.”

“She was not numbered among the survivors that made it back to the Iron Hills, then,” Thorin stated.

“No,” Balin shook his head. “Her father was the head of the Bronze Wheel Company.”

“Balin, I am _so_ sorry,” Thorin said in sympathy.

Dwalin placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

They had all heard of the Bronze Wheel Company, or as it was more commonly known now, the Lost Caravan. It was one of several that had made the journey to Erebor for trade. Some of the other merchants had been in Dale the day the dragon came, and the Bronze Wheel Caravan had been traveling on the road between the two cities to join them when the dragon had attacked. They had never made it to the city of Men. There had been survivors of every caravan except this one. When none of them were ever heard from again, it was assumed Smaug had slain the entire company on the road.

“Thank you, but I didn’t tell you this to get sympathy. I had only a little over a week to share with my One. I would not give up that time for _anything._ Never once have I wished that I had never met her, despite the loneliness I have endured all these years. Do not throw away your chance with your One, Thorin.”

“I doubt the hobbit feels the same about me, Balin.”

“Then take the time this quests grants you with her to try to win Bilba’s heart.”

“She is a distraction _from_ the quest. My duty to my people must come first.”

“You have lived all your years in the service of your people. I do not think they would begrudge you a personal life, especially if it gave them a queen. You are part of your people too, and you have needs. To deny any of them, especially your One, would set a bad example for all. Bilba is not a _distraction._ She is a part of life! We are on this quest for people like her, so that we can give our loved ones a better life.”

“I do not have the time for a courtship.”

“At least try ta make friends with her!” Dwalin exclaimed.

“If we are successful in retaking the mountain, I will ask for permission to court her. Is that good enough for you?”

“Do you think you will be any less busy rebuilding a mountain?” Balin asked. “You have done that once already in Ered Luin. You know the time and attention that took and we do not know what condition Erebor is in. Do not throw away your chance for happiness.”

Thorin hesitated. “Very well, I will try not to alienate her. Only… I do not know how to do that.”

“Try talkin’ ta the lass without growlin’ or insulting her,” Dwalin suggested.

“That would be an excellent way to start,” Balin nodded. “You could even try smiling at her and using her name instead of ‘hobbit’ or ‘burglar’.”

“I told you I will try not to scare her off, and that is all I am willing to promise right now, but if I make a fool of myself it will be all your fault!”

oOoOoOo

Tonight they were standing before the throne in the Throne Room of Erebor. Thorin's left arm was wrapped around Bilba's waist. They both had crowns on their heads. He looked down at her and saw that her belly was round with child. His child! A father! He was going to be a father!

His heart swelled in a way it had not since Fili and Kili were born.

Waking up to find it was only a dream was physically painful. He knew he was in trouble. How was he to focus on his task with Bilba around if she kept invading his dreams?

oOoOoOo

“Hey! Come check out this fountain! It looks like much more fun than that bathing chamber. It even has a slide!” Kili exclaimed.

The other dwarves agreed and so they made use of a fountain a short way and one level down from their rooms.

This is where Elrond and Erestor found them. The latter wincing at seeing all the naked dwarf he’d wanted to avoid.

The Elf Lord was preparing himself to speak to his guests when a voice spoke in his head. ((Let this play out for now. After all they are not the first.))

((For now.)) Elrond acquiesced. There was apparently more going on if _she_ was interested, but he doubted whatever it was would be informative or entertaining enough to make up for enduring the sight of twelve naked dwarves, so he led Erestor away.

A few moments later the dwarves heard the hobbit’s squeal come from the balcony to the left of the fountain.

“They are naked!”

Looking up the dwarves saw Ori and Elrond’s daughter leaning on the railing looking down at them. In between them was a head of curly brown hair with hands covering her face.

“It’s alright! You can look!” Kili shouted up to her.

“We don’t mind!” Fili added.

Thorin, who was reclining against the fountain’s lowest wall with both arms stretched out across it, first thought that he was glad he was already sitting in the water so that he was not completely exposed. Next he thought about getting dressed. Unfortunately, he would have to get out of the fountain to do that. While he was not ashamed of his body, he had promised to try to _not_ make Bilba uncomfortable.

“Should _you_ be looking?” Bilba asked her elf friend. “Would your father approve of you seeing so many naked males? And dwarves at that!”

“No, he would not, but I enjoy beauty in its many forms. If they are going put on a display, I do not see why we should not enjoy the view!” Arwen’s voice drifted down to them. “Besides, my heart already belongs to another, so my father may rest assured that none of these dwarves will capture it.”

Ori leaned over and said softly to her, “They really won’t mind if you look. Part of our culture, remember?”

Bilba was _very_ tempted to peek through her fingers. She was curious as to what Thorin’s muscles looked like. As soon as she had seen they were naked she had covered her eyes. “I’m afraid I will do something embarrassing, like faint!”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get acquainted with the sight now, when you are in a safe place and have some distance between you, than when you are face to face with them who knows where on your journey?” Arwen reasoned.

“I am surprised they have restrained themselves so that you haven’t seen them so far, but it is going to happen. That just how it is traveling in a group,” Ori said.

“If you do faint, we will catch you!” Arwen smiled down at her.

Bilba saw the logic in what her friends said, but they were _naked!_ That little glance she had had before she covered her eyes had been the first she had seen of such a thing! She was already blushing furiously. If she looked, her cheeks might actually burst into flame! It was Ori's arm around her back that gave her the courage to lower her hands.

A cheer went up from the more boisterous dwarves, but they continued to splash around in the water.

Bombur was closer to the lines of what most hobbit lasses would swoon over, but Bilba was different. She thought the rest of them were quite lovely! Bilba's cheeks were burning and Arwen had to whisper into her ear to remind her to breathe.

“The princes are pretty,” Arwen said.

 _'Oh! Yes! They were!'_ Bilba thought to herself.

“Oh, my!” the elf continued. “Look at the muscles on the dwarf with the tattoos all over him!”

“I know! They’re huge, right?!” Ori sighed. Bilba couldn't help joining her friends in their giggles.

Dori and Nori looked suspiciously between their sister and the burly dwarf.

Dwalin thought it took an inordinate amount of control to maintain his normal demeanor and not blush. He folded his arms across his chest to hide his discomfort, unconsciously emphasizing his upper body muscles.

Ori sighed again.

“The Dwarf King is quite lovely to look at don’t you think, Bilba?” Arwen asked.

She had avoided looking directly at Thorin so far. Now, to give a proper answer she would have to. She took a deep breath to steeled herself and looked. She found his eyes were on her. For a few moments the world fell away and there was just the two of them. Then he gave her a half smile. Her heart began to race and she started to feel light headed.

Arwen leaning down and whispering “Breathe,” once more broke the spell.

“Yes, well, he is good at that,” she finally mumbled in answer, turning her gaze away from Thorin in order to think.

Her friends laughed.

“He is also good at being rude, and that kind of ruins it. I mean look at them all right now! They are _bathing_ in a fountain!” she added.

“They are not the first to use that particular fountain as such,” a new voice said.

Happy for the distraction from all the naked males before her, Bilba turned to the new company. Stepping up to the railing was a very tall, very _beautiful_ blond elf. “I think every child that has been in Rivendell since that fountain was constructed has played in it.”

“So they are childish. It is still rude,” Bilba said.

“I think I would use the word ‘lively’,” the elf said, a small smile touching her lips. She had an intent look in her eyes. Bilba felt as if she was looking into her soul.

 _‘Curious,’_ the blond elf thought about the hobbit. _‘Most curious. She bears watching.’_

“Shall we have some tea?” she asked gesturing to several elves who were carrying what looked like the makes of a wonderful afternoon tea picnic.

“That sounds lovely!” Bilba said.

They started to move off to the nearby garden before Bilba stopped.

“Wait one moment!” she said and ran back to the railing. “This doesn't mean you can walk around our rooms naked now!” she shouted down to the dwarves.

“Aww! You are no fun!” Kili shouted back.

oOoOoOo

A short time later, in the large garden just outside the rooms his company had been given, a dressed Thorin came upon a group seated on a large blanket. The burglar, _'Bilba'_ he reminded himself, and Ori were seated with four female elves, one blond and three dark haired. One of the dark haired elves he recognized as Elrond's daughter. The other two he vaguely recalled as being her ladies-in-waiting. The blond looked like the elf that had joined the females while he and the rest of the company had been bathing in the fountain. They all looked like they were enjoying a nice tea party.

“Will you not join us, Thorin Oakenshield?” the blond elf asked him.

“I do not believe we have met.”

“We have not. I am Galadriel of Lothlorien. Lord Elrond's daughter, Arwen,” she said gesturing at said elf, “is my granddaughter.”

“How is it you know who I am? Are you going to claim to have known my grandfather as well?”

((Your name is written across your mind.))

Thorin took a half step back in shock. Her lips did not move yet he had heard her voice. “What is this?”

“Sit down, please, Thorin,” the hobbit asked.

He did not particularly want to stay in the presence of an obviously powerful elf, but he was still wary of leaving any members of his company alone with elves, especially the two females. While he knew Ori was capable of defending herself, the hobbit was far too trusting. He also knew the hobbit ( _'_ _Bilba'_ he reminded himself again) would refuse if he tried to make them leave. Reluctantly he took the place Ori made for him between herself and his One. He was handed a dainty teacup and saucer and encouraged to partake in the refreshments.

When their tea party was over the dark haired elves picked up the dishes and left. Bilba and Ori went back to their rooms.

The entire time Galadriel had looked directly at him like she was reading every part of his soul, every strength and every weakness. He felt she could see all his triumphs and every mistake he had ever made. He was afraid, but clenching his fists, he refused to cower. So he sat and met her gaze, no matter how much he wanted to look away. He knew he had his faults. Had the hobbit not pointed out several last night?

There was no doubt in his mind that she now wished to speak with him alone. They sat like that in silence for several minutes just looking at one another before Galadriel smiled and nodded in approval. Still she did not speak.

“What do you want?” Thorin finally asked.

“Not many can stand to meet such a gaze for long. I have an offer for you,” the elf finally spoke.

“What kind of offer?”

“More than four and a half centuries ago I called together the wisest and most powerful beings that I am allied with. I asked that we reform a group called the White Council which had stood against Sauron in the Second Age so that we could watch for shadows growing in Middle Earth lest the enemy return to power once more.”

“I would be willing to wager no dwarf is counted among your ‘council’,” Thorin growled.

“And you would be correct. Given the troubled past between our peoples, it is not surprising. However, I see in you the potential to be one of those who could become a member, if faith can be rebuilt between us.”

“I do not think that is very likely, after all my people have suffered because of your kind.”

“Neither of our kinds are faultless in the creation of our animosity, and not only your people have suffered for it. Trust must start somewhere, so I will begin by inviting you, on a provisional basis, to the meeting we are holding tonight to discuss important matters. This is my offer. In doing so, I am trusting you to treat the information shared appropriately. It is information that could be very damaging in the wrong hands.”

“Damaging to whom?”

“Anyone who would stand against evil in this world.”

“Why? Why would you want me to join this council of yours?”

“If Sauron rose up and began marching with an army of his dark followers on one of the lands of the Free Peoples, be it Men, Elves, or Hobbits, and they called for aid, what would you do?  Would you hide in your halls and hope that someone else defeats the shadow? Or would you call for your armies to fight like your ancestor, Durin IV, did?”

“If they were marching on dwarven halls would you send your warriors to help _us_?”

“I would, save were my own realm being attacked as well,” Galadriel didn't hesitate to tell him. “I am not Thranduil, just as you are not your father or grandfather. We all have our own missteps to commit and triumphs to achieve. None of us should condemn an entire race for the mistakes of a few. I hope one day to call you 'trusted friend', but I should like to call you ‘ally’ at the very least. Why do I hope you prove yourself trustworthy to join our council? You are part of this world. I believe you deserve a say in these important matters.”

“What matters are these exactly? It is not as if Sauron will rise up to terrorize us again,” Thorin said.

“That is far more likely than you think, Thorin Oakenshield,” Galadriel said looking entirely too grave.

“How can that be? He was destroyed!”

“Are you are familiar with the story of Isildur and the Ring of Power?”

“Yes, he took possession of it after cutting it off Sauron's hand, supposedly keeping it until his death when it was lost.”

“The One Ring is a part of Sauron. As long as it exists, so too does he.”

“You mean the evil entity that tried to conquer the entire world is out there somewhere right _now_?”

Galadriel nodded, “He is weakened, but everyday his power grows.”

Narrowing his eyes, the Dwarf King asked, “Do you know where he is?”

“That will be discussed at the meeting,” Galadriel said with great sadness in her eyes.

“You do!” Thorin accused.

“Come to the meeting. You will get to see how important trust is for the council to function and we will be discussing important things that may affect the fate of Middle Earth. Things like your quest to reclaim Erebor.”

“And if you decide against our quest, what then? Will you keep us here as prisoners?”

“No. We might forbid Mithrandir from aiding you, but honestly, I do not think that would stop him. Should Lord Elrond try to imprison you I swear on my life to free you myself. Will you accompany me?”

“Very well.”

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Thorin knows that Bilba is his One. I'm sorry if that seems a little fast, but dwarves do tend to fall in love at first sight. I think if he had been more receptive Thorin would have fallen that quickly too, but he has been pouring all his energy into the quest.
> 
> Bilba is wise about being the one in charge of the welfare of other lives, but she is ignorant in the ways of romantic love and sex. She will be oblivious to her effect on Thorin and what her reactions to him might mean for a loooong while yet.
> 
> Sorry if Bilba's reaction to Naked Thorin is not quite what you were hoping. She didn't actually have a very good view of him. She will get a closer view of his muscles soon!
> 
> Galadriel is a strategist. She knows if Thorin is successful he could be a very valuable ally. She is also sooo over the elf-dwarf hate and wants to create a lasting peace. If she can do that with Thorin, it will go a long way with the rest of the dwarves.


	13. The White Council Meets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {...} elvish  
> [...] Khuzdul  
> /…\ Iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
>  
> 
> Scenes from the movie ahead. Since I made major changes to it, I hope you will forgive me for using so many of the actual lines.
> 
> Quite a bit of this chapter uses canon lore. I've just taken it and played with it to fit with what I want. And made up a whole lot to go with it. I hope it isn't too confusing. I have also messed with how foresight might work. Elrond will explain more in a later chapter.

 oOoOoOo

Galadriel led Thorin to an open aired pavilion that was set a bit off from all the other buildings in Rivendell. He supposed it was one of the more private places to hold a meeting involving sensitive information, as he was led to believe this meeting was, especially with the elves apparent disdain for solid walls. Rivendell's architecture was full windows, archways, and open air.

“If you need something we speak of clarified, please ask. Much of what we discuss is either not common knowledge or has been relegated to mere legend,” Galadriel told him.

“Very well,” he nodded.

In the center of the pavilion was a large stone table surrounded by chairs. Two of these were already occupied by what appeared to be elves.

One of them was at any rate. He was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face young and fearless and full of joy, much like Thorin's own nephews. He was introduced as Glorfindel.

The other attendee looked like an elf in every aspect but one. He was tall and lithe with pointed ears and long silver hair. What did not fit was the pointed silver beard that was long enough to reach his chest. After being introduced as Cirdan the Shipwright, he said, “Yes, I am an elf and yes, my beard is real.”

“I did not think it was possible for your kind to grow facial hair,” Thorin told him.

“For most it is not,” Cirdan shrugged.

“He was one of the first elves to be awoken by Eru, so he is _really_ old. Maybe that's why,” Glorfindel grinned.

Thorin had the feeling that if the jovial blond elf reclining in the chair managed to become either friends or mortal enemies with his nephews, they would all become both dangerous and _annoying_ to have in the near vicinity. He hoped they _never_ met.

Cirdan seemed used to the younger blond's behavior and just shrugged a shoulder.

The end of the conversation that Elrond and Gandalf were having carried to the waiting group as the two climbed the top of the winding stairs and joined them in the pavilion.

“With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain,” the wizard said. “They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he’s answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I.”

“It is not me you must answer to,” the elf lord said giving a pointed look in female elf's direction.

“Lady Galadriel,” Gandalf bowed in greeting.

“Mithrandir. It has been a long time.”

{Age may have changed me, but not so the Lady of Lorien.}

Galadriel smiled.

“I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you.”

“He did not. I originally came to collect my granddaughter for a stay in Lothlorien.”

“Master Oakenshield,” Elrond said noticing the dwarf. “I was not expecting you.”

“I invited him to join us for our discussion,” Galadriel informed him. “I believe it could be advantageous for us all if he were to hear about our council’s dealings and how it is that more is at stake on his quest than just his mountain.”

“You want him to become a member?” Gandalf asked.

“For now he is to be treated as such. He is here on a trial basis,” Galadriel informed them. “I see in him a potential for the qualities necessary for permanent membership. I see much the same in the hobbit.”

“Yet you did not invite her to join us tonight,” replied the wizard.

“No, she is one of the topics I wish to discuss,” she replied.

“He is also one of the topics on the agenda,” Elrond stated.

“The things we will discuss tonight she is not yet ready to hear,” Galadriel said. “She is very young. Let her enjoy her innocence a little longer.”

“Very well,” said Elrond. “I believe we are all who will be attending tonight. Shall we begin?”

Gandalf and Thorin each took seats at the table. Galadriel and Elrond chose to remain standing.

“The dragon has long been on your mind,” Galadriel said.

“This is true, my lady,” Gandalf agreed. “Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect. I’m simply doing what I feel to be right,” the wizard responded.

“For four hundred years, we have lived in peace. A hard-won, watchful peace,” Elrond claimed.

“Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road,” responded the wizard.

“Hardly a prelude to war,” Cirdan countered.

“I can hear Saruman now. 'Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists',” Glorfindel mimicked in a false low voice.

“Let him speak,” Galadriel chastised lightly.

“There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it ‘Mirkwood’ and they speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur, a sorcerer who can summon the dead. We already know who that is. And, when an investigation of more dark things that now roam the forest led him into the old fortress, Radagast saw specters of more than one entity.”

“Radagast? The bizarre fellow with the rabbits?” interrupted Thorin.

“Well, he’s odd, I grant you. He lives a solitary life.” Gandalf said.

“And who _is_ in Dol Guldur?” Thorin asked.

The four males looked to Galadriel.

“Tell him, Mithrandir,” she encouraged. “He has more right to know some of what you discovered on your own foray into Dol Guldur than anyone else here.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow when the wizard glanced at him briefly and winced.

Taking a deep breath, Gandalf brought his gaze back to the dwarf's and began to speak. From the sorrow in the old man’s face, Thorin knew it would not be a happy tale. He just had not expected that the sorrow was for him.

“In 2850, I entered Dol Guldur. There I found a dwarf that was mad and dying. He had been tortured for so long death was the only mercy left to him. Though he could not tell me his name or that of his kin, he possessed just enough sanity to entrust to me a map and key to deliver to his son. I realized when we met that night in Bree that you were the son he spoke of,” Gandalf said.

“You have known for over seventy-five years that my father was dead! Why are you only just now telling me this?” growled the dwarf.

The wizard winced again. “We only met a few months ago. Hope is a powerful thing and I was hesitant to take away your hope to find your father alive with the terrible truth.”

Thorin jumped to his feet and slammed his fists on the table. “I am not some dwarfling to be coddled, Tharkun! You should have informed me that night. I even told you that I had been following rumors of his whereabouts! I would rather have the harsh truth than gentle empty lies!” he roared.

“You are correct. I am sorry,” Gandalf apologized. “There is more. May I continue?”

Fuming, Thorin nodded and sat.

“Thrain was not the only one I found. What is left of the Dark Lord Sauron, his essence, resides in Dol Guldur. Most likely Sauron had your father taken in order to obtain the last of the seven dwarven Rings of Power. Four were consumed by dragon fire. Two we know for sure were recovered by Sauron and it is now very probable he took the third from you father while he was held captive.”

Even with the conversation he had had with Lady Galadriel earlier, he had not expected such news! These beings here were the ones seeking to oppose another rise to the Dark Lord's power. He was still angry with Tharkun about not informing him of it earlier, but his father was dead and _Sauron_ was responsible. Thorin would listen to what they had to say, even if most of them were elves, and if there was anything _he_ could do to help avenge his father, he would do it!

Gandalf sighed, “When I told the council of what I had found in our next meeting, Saruman the leader of my order convinced us not to drive him from the fortress.”

“What good will the rings do Sauron without the One Ring? It was washed into the sea,” Glorfindel asked.

“Was it? That is only what Saruman has told us. We have no evidence of it,” Galadriel said. “You carry something, Mithrandir. It came to you from Radagast. He found it in Dol Guldur.”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

The gray wizard placed the long wrapped bundle Thorin had seen the brown wizard give him onto the table. It let out a dull thud.

“What is that?” Thorin asked.

“A relic of Mordor,” Galadriel breathed.

Elrond, who had been reaching out to unwrap the package, drew his hand back. He then reached for it again and, careful to touch only the wrapping, opened it to reveal a sword.

The White Council members look upon it in shock.

“A Morgul blade,” Elrond said appalled.

“Made for the Witch-king of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it within the High-Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light,” Galadriel stated gravely.

“Are you sure this is his blade?” Glorfindel asked his gaze traveling to each of the other three elves.

“This is not possible. A powerful spells lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened,” Elrond denied.

“Yet here it is,” Cirdan stated.

“Curse Saruman and whatever reasons he had for delaying! Now Sauron has the Nazgul in his service again. Because if he has one, you can bet he has all nine!” Glorfindel exclaimed.

“Nazgul? The Ringwraiths? Are you saying the _Ringwraiths_ walk the world again?!” the Dwarf King exclaimed. They were largely relegated to legend among his people, used to scare dwarflings into behaving. But, in the stories he had heard in his history lessons the Nazgul were supposedly the Dark Lord's most terrible servants!

“It appears that way, yes,” Gandalf confirmed gravely.

“Where is Saruman anyway? I expected him to be here for this discussion,” said Cirdan.

“It was Saruman’s council that stopped us from mounting an attack against Dol Guldur seventy-five years ago,” stated the elven lady. “As a result Sauron has only had time to grow in power. Gandalf, you yourself have suspected that Saruman has sought the Ring of Power for his own since then.”

Gandalf reluctantly nodded.

“On our journey here, my party stopped at Isengard. When we arrived we found no one. Concerned I went looking for Saruman. He was in the antechamber to his meditation room. I heard him giving instructions to someone before he came into my sight, and his words made me reluctant to reveal my presence. Using the reflection of something on the wall I was able to bring him and the one he was giving orders to into view. The servant exited the room, fortunately for me he went out another way. After he had left, Saruman entered a hidden room for a few moments. He then entered the meditation room, but before the door fully closed I saw him remove a cloth from covering a Palantir that was sitting on the center pedestal,” Galadriel revealed.

“Perhaps there is an explanation for this. Granted I would not count the use of one of the Seeing Stones wise, but that does not mean he has turned against us,” Cirdan said.

“Seeing Stones?” Thorin asked.

“The Palantiri are orbs that allow for long distance communication. There were seven. Having one stone lets you watch through any of the other six. Four were lost and some could very well be in the possession of the enemy,” Gandalf explained.

“Inquisitive creature that I am,” Galadriel continued, “I entered the hidden room after the wizard was occupied. It was a small room with just a table with a tiny chest resting on it. Upon opening it I discovered two items that brought horror to my heart. Not because these items are dangerous themselves, but because of the implications of them being in Saruman’s possession.”

“What were they?” Glorfindel inquired.

Galadriel drew a small bundle from her robe.

“You _took_ them?” exclaimed the young blonde.

“They rightfully belong to another,” she responded. “Elrond, did you bring the item I asked for?”

The dark haired elf pulled out a small jewel case and opened it. Resting on the padded velvet inside was a white gem on a silver fillet. He set it on the table so the others could look at it.

Opening the bundle, Galadriel laid it out on the table for everyone to see the two items that had been wrapped inside. One was a small gold case attached to a chain. The other was extraordinarily like the item Elrond had brought out except it sat upon a fillet of mithril instead of silver and the gem was a radiant white and seemed to give off a little light of its own. It reminded Thorin vaguely of the Arkenstone.  

Neither held any real significance for Thorin, but they must have for the others given their reactions. Glorfindel’s eyebrows rose and he sat forward in his seat. Cirdan stood and leaned on the table with his hands. Elrond gasped and actually took a step back. Gandalf drew back in his chair making some odd sputtering noises. It would have been amusing to see the wizard so undone had Thorin not known it must be serious indeed to have that effect.

“Master Dwarf,” Galadriel said picking up the shining gem, “this is the Elendilmir, the Star of Elendil. It is was regarded as the Royal Gem of Arnor. It was lost when the last bearer of both of these items was slain nearly three thousand years ago. The one Elrond brought is a reproduction, a copy, made long after the original was lost.” She put it back down and picked up the chain. “This was worn by Isildur to carry the Ring of Power.”

“Is it in there?” Elrond demanded. “Is the Ring in there?”

“No,” she said opening it to show them. “It was empty when I found it in Orthanc.”

“There must be some explanation for this,” Gandalf protested.

“After finding these items I returned to my traveling party and waited for Saruman to appear. When he finally did we dined together, though no one else showed themselves to us while we were there. He had plenty of opportunity in our conversation to mention something of this magnitude. There is no just reason for Saruman to possess these or keep them from their rightful owner,” Galadriel declared.

“Who _do_ they belong to?” Thorin questioned.

“Isildur’s heir of course,” Glorfindel answered.

“The line still exists?” the dwarf asked astonished.

“It does. You are not the only exiled king in Middle Earth.” Elrond said.

“The heir grew up here in Rivendell after his father was killed by orcs,” Glorfindel said. “He is not here right now, or I would introduce you.”

“So what about Saruman? Do you think he has the Ring?” Cirdan asked.

“Would that be a bad thing if the wizard did have it?” Thorin inquired. “Would he not be a safe keeper?”

“I would not trust that ring in the hands of anyone who wants to possess it,” Cirdan asserted, “and it would seem Saruman wants it badly.”

“What about you, Tharkun?” Thorin asked. He may question the wizard's motivations and methods but he did not believe him evil.

“I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe,” Gandalf replied. “The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly. I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. The same would happen to Saruman.”

“I called the wisest and most powerful beings to create this council,” Galadriel imparted. “Not all are in attendance tonight, such as Radagast, but I would not consider any of us safe keepers. It is possible that one of us might possess the power to claim dominion over the Master Ring, but if we were to take it and fail the consequences would be dire.”

“The One Ring would eventually destroy any keeper given enough time. How long would just depend on their strength of spirit, purity of heart, and natural weaknesses,” Elrond stated. “Would you like to hear how I see you faring against the Ring?”

“Very well,” Thorin said. He did not expect it to be a kind assessment.

“My knowledge of you tells me that you are a good leader to your people and have done well by them in a troubling time. You have also come through the trials of you life so far with your mind intact. Both of these speak of a strong spirit. Dwarves also seem to be resistant to some of the corruption of the Rings. The Seven gifted with the Rings did not fall like the Nine did. These are all pluses in your favor,” the Lord of Rivendell expressed. “However, your weaknesses concern me. Your pride and animosity for most other races. Your want of revenge on the dragon. The Ring would use these emotions and desires against you, understandable though they may be. There is also the fact your line is susceptible to madness. If you came into possession of the One Ring it would not be a matter of _if_ you would go mad, but _when_. The Master Ring's power would draw you into it.”

“Is there no one that could bear it safely?” Thorin asked. Lord Elrond had been blunt but not derisive as he had expected.

“Sauron, but that would be detrimental to the rest of the world,” Cirdan said wryly.

“What does the One Ring look like?” inquired Thorin.

“It is a gold band with an inscription of glowing Tengwar letters in the Black Speech of Mordor. There is a painting of it here in Rivendell. I will show it to you tomorrow if you wish,” Elrond offered.

“I would appreciate that. On the remote chance I should come across such a dangerous relic, I would wish to be able to recognize it so as not touch it.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” the Elf Lord told him.

“Despite what you may think of me, I have no desire to lose my mind,” the Dwarf Lord said. “None of you want it and your words have made me exceedingly cautious about possessing it myself.”

“Oh, we want it. We just do not trust ourselves with it,” said the shipwright.

“More than one here tonight has the gift of foresight. Have neither of you Seen anything regarding the Ring?” Glorfindel asked.

Elrond shook his head, “Nothing definitive.”

Galadriel looked off into the valley searchingly before speaking, “There are so many shadows obscuring paths in the future. I do not believe the Ring is active at this time. The orders I overheard Saruman give leads me to believe he does not have it, but I feel that it will not be long before the ring reveals itself.”

“What _were_ his orders?” asked Cirdan.

“To burn the body and continue the search while he informed the Master,” she reported.

“Saruman found Isildur's body and had it burned!” Glorfindel sounded appalled.

“What is more, the servant I saw answering to the wizard was an orc.”

The elves gasped.

Gandalf leaned on the table and covered his face with his hands for a few moments before looking up again.

“I can not help but hope that there is an explanation for these actions, though I can not think what it might be. However, I do think we had best not count him among our allies for the time being,” Gandalf said. “This just makes it more vital that the dragon be dealt with.”

“Mithrandir? Why did you choose the Halfling to go on this quest against a dragon?” The Elf Lady asked.

Gandalf glanced at the dwarf before answering. “I don’t know. Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I’ve found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. My heart tells me she has a part to play in all this. Why Bilba Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and she gives me courage.”

Thorin had not expected the wizard to admit something like _that!_ Perhaps his understanding of the forces involved here was more incomplete than he had thought and he should feel more fear than he currently does.

“Do not be afraid, Mithrandir,” Galadriel comforted. “You are not alone. So many shadows mar my Vision of the future, yet when I look at Bilba my Sight is nearly blinded by light.”

“I have Seen something similar,” Elrond said. “I can tell she is vital but I can not see how or why.”

“The hobbit has an important task to accomplish. She has a role to fulfill in the dwarves quest, but it seems more far-reaching than that,” Galadriel said.

((Even more than perhaps becoming Queen of Durin's Folk could account for.))

Thorin heard Galadriel’s voice, but once again the words were not coming from her mouth. He turned his head away from the others to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

“I can say this,” she continued, “should something happen to Bilba Baggins before she completes her task I See shadows spreading across the world like a great wave of the sea.”

Reluctantly Thorin asked, “Should she remain here in Rivendell?”

“No, the hobbit must go with you. You can not succeed without her,” Galadriel maintained.

Thorin nodded.

“Great first meeting for you, eh, Master Oakenshield? A dragon, Nazgul, Sauron, _and_ you get to hear how badly elves and wizards may have erred!” Glorfindel told him.

That earned the youngest elf disapproving glares from Elrond and Cirdan.

“I told him he would get the opportunity to see how important trust is for our group to function,” mentioned Galadriel. “Saruman's own agenda may cost the peoples of Middle Earth dearly.”

Thorin then thought of something that made him smirk because he suspected he knew the answer. “Is Thranduil a member of this council and has he been informed of the identity of his neighbor?” he inquired.

Gandalf and the male elves blanched. Galadriel tried to hide a small smile.

“No, and no. There wasn't much point in telling him when we were not going to do anything about it yet,” Gandalf explained.

“Well, you want us to do something about it now, do you not?” said Cirdan. “What did you have in mind?”

“We need to assault Dol Guldur before the Dark Lord's power grows further, but we need to do it at the same time Thorin and his company enter the Lonely Mountain,” the wizard advised. “This will keep Sauron or Smaug from gaining reinforcement from the other.”

“You mean to sacrifice us to the dragon?!” Thorin accused.

“No!” the grey wizard denied. “I mean for you to distract the dragon if necessary. Send Bilba in to look for the Arkenstone, but if the dragon sleeps, let it sleep for the time being. If he is awake, her scent should be enough to keep Smaug from being willing to travel far from the mountain, not as far as Dol Guldur I'm sure. I certainly do _not_ want you to confront the dragon. You just need to keep his attention and do not let him leave the mountain. When I join you there we will assess what needs to be done to deal with the dragon once and for all.”

Thorin was slightly appeased.

“Meanwhile, we get to face a Dark Lord, up to nine Nazgul, and who knows what else,” Glorfindel said sarcastically.

“We will need more than the five of us to do that.” Elrond said.

“Who gets the pleasure of informing Thranduil?” Glorfindel inquired.

The elder elves turned their gazes to the youngest.

“Oh. Am I just informing him or am I trying to get his aid for the assault?” an unenthusiastic Glorfindel asked.

“Try and get his help,” said Cirdan.

“I think we will have to wait until I can read the moon runes on Thorin's map before we can plan more. I suggest we each take our rest,” Elrond advised. “We will meet again on the night of the crescent moon.”

Cirdan and Glorfindel made their farewells and left.

Thorin stood to leave when he was stopped by Elrond.

“A moment, Master Oakenshield. In case this has not been mentioned, the things we discussed tonight are to remain secret. Do not inform your company. For the moment, the fewer who know, the safer we all are.”

“I have to tell someone, and my company should know the general plan in case something happens to me,” Thorin objected. “I also need to inform them of my father's death. I do not have to give them the grim details, but they need to know some of it.”

“The white haired one. Balin I believe his name is. You count him as counselor and confidant, do you not?” said Galadriel. “Do you believe he could handle this information rationally? Could he keep it secret?”

“Yes,” Thorin did not hesitate to answer. Balin had kept the existence of his One a secret for more than a hundred fifty years _for_ _Mahal's sake!_

Galadriel's eyebrows rose slightly for a moment then she smiled. “We each have someone we confide in. Someone that can be sent to the meetings in our place on occasion. You may share all that you have learned tonight with Balin.”

“Tell him the whole of it here in Rivendell though. And be careful how you speak of it once you leave this sanctuary. Sauron has many spies. Certain birds and beast, even some of the trees are on his side,” Gandalf advised.

“Wait to inform your company of anything beside the death of your father until we have a more solid plan,” Elrond instructed.

“Very well,” he said and left to return to where his company rested.

The other three watched him go.

“You are right to help Thorin Oakenshield, Mithrandir. But I fear this quest has set in motion forces we do not yet understand. You must be careful,” Galadriel told the wizard.

“I hope you are right about him,” Elrond said. “He could do great damage with the information we gave him tonight.”

“I hope I am as well, but as I told him trust must start somewhere. Let it start here. Perhaps our putting our trust in him will help lead him to the better future,” the Lady said.

“And if it doesn't, but Mithrandir succeeds in getting the dwarf and hobbit together, he might destroy her,” the Elf Lord remarked.

“Or she could be his redemption,” Galadriel suggested.

“Redemption?” Elrond expressed. “No one has ever come _out_ of gold sickness!”

“Just because it has never happened before, doesn't mean it's impossible,” objected Gandalf.

“Either way, we must be prepared to uphold our side. When Thorin Oakenshield needs aid we must answer,” Galadriel pronounced.

oOoOoOo

After the meeting Thorin did not seek his bed even though it was very late into the night. He stood at the railing of their suite's balcony, and though he looked out over the valley, he did not really see it.

Seventy six years. His father had been dead for seventy six years. Thorin had known that such an outcome was the most probable result he would find in his search, but Tharkun was correct. He had still hoped otherwise.

“Thorin? Where have you been?” a voice said behind him.

“Go to bed, Balin,” he quietly told his friend, not turning from the railing.

“What is wrong, laddie?”

“Go to bed. I will speak to you about it tomorrow.”

“Alright, if that is what you wish. Just remember, you can talk to me at any time about anything.”

“Thank you, Balin. Now get some rest,” he said still not turning around.

The Dwarf King had learned many important things that, in the larger picture, were probably more important than his father's death. Tomorrow he would be strong again when he shared the news with the company, but for the moment he would allow himself to be just a son grieving for his father, and so took no notice of the tears that escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important! 
> 
> When Thorin and Bilba get to that point & if I write it (no promises), would you rather have the explicit content in the story or should I put it in a separate story and those who want to read it can do so? There are naughty versions of Thorin's dreams that if I do post WILL be in a different story. I did not put them in this because I thought it was too soon and I didn't want Thorin to seem like it was only about sex. Not that there is anything wrong with gratuitous smut, it just didn't fit with the love story so soon.


	14. More Time in Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {...} elvish  
> [...] Khuzdul  
> /…\ Iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
> Some more Nori for 2ClassySluts. I hope you all can understand what he is saying. In most cases a ‘ff’ in Nori’s speech is replacing ‘th’. Hope that helps.
> 
> The small chunk of italic is Elrond remembering something he Saw.

oOoOoOo

 

Thorin slept fitfully and so despite being the last to go to sleep he was the first to wake.

He would have to get word to his mother and sister about his father's death. Thorin wished that he could tell them in person. If Tharkun had told him in Bree he _would_ have had the opportunity, but now he could not delay in case the quest went ill.

That meant asking the elves for assistance in delivering a letter. Thorin's lip curled at the thought.

Feeling restless and not wanting to wait around for the others to wake, he went to seek out the Lord of Rivendell to inquire about the possibility.

Thorin's explorations first led him to find Lady Galadriel sitting alone at a table. It felt as if he was meant to find her and she had been waiting for him, so he took the seat across from her. She was giving him that look that made him feel exposed, but still he would not look away.

“I am not surprised King Thranduil did not help your people fight the dragon,” she began. “If my own realm faced the same threat, I doubt he would order his warriors to aid me either. It was not because of your race, or perhaps not entirely, that he did not fight, but because of fear. We all have great fears that motivate us. You fear failing your people and falling to the madness that took your forefathers. Thranduil fears losing his son as he lost his father and wife, and dragons, for he has faced them before.”

“Why are you telling me this? Do you think this will make me forgive him?” This was hardly a topic Thorin liked to discuss, let alone first thing in the morning.

“Forgive? No, but perhaps some understanding will help improve things. After all, if you are successful in retaking the Lonely Mountain, he will be your neighbor once again. I do not agree with Thranduil’s decision to turn and leave. He could have provided aid in other ways. There would have been those that marched with him that possessed healing gifts, besides himself, that could have been put to use at the very least. Or perhaps he did and the offer of aid had been refused. I do not know.”

“Why would we refuse aid?”

“On four separate occasions in the first year of your exile I sent out messengers to Thror offering aid. The first two never returned and their fate still remains unknown. The third he refused to see at all. The fourth he granted an audience but declared that his people needed nothing from - what is that you like to call us? Tree-shaggers?” she gave him a small smile.

“I have never heard anything about this before,” Thorin said, skeptical.

“I have the written rejection back in Lothlorien. I know Lord Elrond sent offers of aid that were refused as well. Perhaps he has something in writing, too, if you want to see proof. Your grandfather _was_ mad. I do not tell you this to upset you, but point out how madness can make a king who was once a good ruler behave irrationally to the detriment of his people. Keep that in mind when you face the gold in Erebor.”

They sat together in silence for some minutes, to let Thorin think over the new information before Galadriel continued.

“If you choose to continue to Erebor you _will_ face the gold sickness. It is a trial I believe you are fated to meet. The potential I see in you is tied greatly to how you handle it. I fear things bode ill if you should succumb and embrace the madness. But it will be _your_ choice whether to become hero to the people or tyrant.”

Thorin nodded in acknowledgment of her words.

“What is your great fear, Lady Galadriel?” Thorin could not resist asking, though he did not expect to receive an answer.

“The world falling to Sauron’s shadow and my ceasing to be Galadriel.”

She received a questioning look.

“Yes, I fear a madness of my own, and I believe the day will come when I will face that trial just as you will.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

Thorin continued on his quest to locate the Lord of Rivendell. He found him reading in a small open aired pavilion that was lit by the rising sun.

“Lord Elrond,” Thorin said as politely as he could.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” the Elf Lord greeted him, closing his book. “How may I assist you?”

The Dwarf King hesitated for a moment to swallow a bit of his pride. “Would it be possible to have a letter sent to Ered Luin? I need to inform my mother and sister of my father’s fate.”

“Of course, just make sure you do not mention the Dark Lord or Dol Guldur,” the Elf Lord reminded him. “When you have finished, bring it to me and I will send a rider to deliver it. Do you need any writing supplies?”

“That would be appreciated.”

“I will have them delivered to your suite. Should any of your company, including Bilba, wish to write letters of their own to their families, they will be delivered as well.”

Thorin bowed his head. The Lady Galadriel's words still swirled in his mind, leaving him slightly distracted.

“Thorin,” Elrond said calling his attention back. “I am truly sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” he said. “There is a tradition among dwarves to honor the dead with a toast.”

“Would you like to do so at dinner? We would be honored to salute your father's life with you.”

“Dinner will be fine,” Thorin agreed.

“If you are amenable, I could show you the painting of Sauron and the One Ring now,” Elrond offered.

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea.”

Elrond led him to a circular room with a statue in the center. Across from its front the elf pointed out a mural on the wall.

“This is a depiction of Sauron just before the Ring was cut from his hand by Isildur,” Elrond told him “As you can see, it is a gold band and the letters glow with a fiery light. I do not have a more detailed drawing. Those were made by Isildur after he came into possession of the Ring. If they still exist, they are probably buried somewhere in Gondor's archives.”

It was true that the mural wasn't the most detailed piece, but it did give Thorin a much better idea what the One Ring looked like. He thought he would be able to recognize it if he were ever unfortunate enough to come across it. Though he supposed fiery letters glowing across the surface were uncommon markings even for magic rings.

“What do the markings say?” Thorin asked. 

“In Black Speech it says 'One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.'”

“Thank you,” he told the elf and turned to around to think, however the statue caught his attention. The stone had been carved into the image of a woman holding a flat oval disc. On this disc was a glossy cloth with a broken sword resting on top of it. “Why do you keep a broken sword?”

“These are the Shards of Narsil, the sword that cut the Ring from the Dark Lord's hand. One day we will reforge the sword. Isildur's heir will wield it and Sauron will fear them,” Elrond said with a fierceness Thorin had not heard the elf use before.

“Why have you not reforged it already? Could he not wield it now?”

“For the time being, secrecy keeps him safer than this weapon would. Sauron may fear his line, but that has not stopped him from trying to end it. The heir is a good man. I hope one day you both sit on your thrones and rule your people in peace and wisdom.”

“Do you?” Thorin said a little gruffly. “I thought you were against our quest.”

“I have reservations. I fear the wrath the dragon may inflict on the world. I fear the damage you could do under the influence of gold sickness. That does not mean I lack _all_ hope for a better outcome. Lady Galadriel says she Sees a chance for you to succeed, and so I hope for this, even if I remain vigilant should it turn out otherwise,” Elrond said lowering his chin and raising his eyebrows. “You are cautious in dealing with elves. Considering the history between our peoples I can not fault you too harshly for that, and I hope you will afford me the same kindness. I wish you no ill will, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin nodded once in acknowledgment. “You and Lady Galadriel have the gift of Foresight yet you have Seen nothing about any of this?”

“Lady Galadriel's gift is greater than mine, but more often than not, we do not get to choose what we See. We can try to divine certain things, but that is not always as successful as we might hope. The shadows moving in our Sight make this even more difficult, and they are growing more numerous. It is very likely Sauron is somehow responsible. Foresight does not just show the future either. It is possible to See events of the past or present. When Galadriel looks at you she Sees possibilities for your future. When I look at you I See your past.”

“Not a pleasant sight.”

Elrond nodded his own acknowledgment. “You have had a challenging life, and so far, you have risen to that challenge, but it has not completely lacked joy. Obtaining your Mastery, your nephews and surviving family, seeing your people thrive despite harsh circumstances,” a smile spread across his face. “Finding your One.”

Thorin turned a glare at the Elf Lord for the last.

“Do not worry. I will not say anything about it to Bilba,” Elrond assured, still smiling. “I do wish you luck in winning her affections. I have no doubt that she would make a fine queen, though if you hurt her I can not guarantee my continued good will.”

“If I hurt her, I will not be worthy of good will,” Thorin answered seriously.

“So, we understand each other, on this subject at least.”

“Do you See Bilba's past when you look at her?”

Elrond looked off into the distance beyond what was actually in sight.

oOo

_Bilba running over snow covered ground. Wolves howling. One readying to leap. A hobbit woman stepping between the wolf and her daughter. Blood spreading over the snow. More howling. Rangers of the North riding up firing arrows from their longbows._

oOo

_Bilba growing up at the side of a bedridden hobbit man. Taking lessons from him. Reading to him. Writing letters for him. Sharing meals._

oOo

_Bilba sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand holding one belonging to the same hobbit man laying there while the other strokes his hair. He struggles to speak, but no words come out._

_'It is alright, Papa,' she says tears streaming down her cheeks. 'I will be alright. You can let go and go find Mama. I'm sure she is waiting for you.'_

_He musters a smile for his daughter and breathes his last._

_Bilba leans over his body and sobs._

oOo

“Mostly I See a bright light like Lady Galadriel mentioned. I can, however, See the death of her parents and that these events have made her more kind and caring than she otherwise would have been. The difficulties in your own life have made you strong, but they have also made you hard and unyielding. Those that can not bend or compromise _will_ eventually break. That does not exclude elves. Everyone has their breaking point. I hope you never reach yours.”

“I am surprised you are being so open with me,” Thorin told the elf, still more than a bit suspicious.

“Lady Galadriel is quite possibly the most wise and powerful elf in all of Middle Earth and right now she trusts _you_ more than she does a wizard she has known for nearly two thousand years. _That_ should not be taken lightly. I do not know what potential she Sees in you, but it must be significant. Remember that.”

“Is she that well respected among _all_ the elves?”

“She is. Not even Thranduil will easily dismiss her council.”

Inviting Thorin to the meeting may have been more significant than he had originally believed. Could the relationship between the elves and dwarves really be repaired? Or was this another trick of the elves? He did not believe the elves would make up the terrible information they had shared with him last night, though.

“In a conversation with Lady Galadriel, she said early in our exile she had offered aid to my people which my grandfather refused. She believes this had also happened to you,” Thorin said wording it as diplomatically as he could.

“Yes, that is correct," Elrond confirmed. "Do you wish to see the missive?”

“I do.”

“Very well. Come, I will take you to the library.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

The library turned out to be one of the large fully enclosed buildings. Inside, Thorin found that there were three stories of shelves filled with books. The ground floor had tables, chairs, and couches. The other two stories had little more than walkways around the perimeter so that all the shelves could be reached. The center was left open from the ground floor up to the ceiling far above. A spiraling staircase led up to not only the walkways, but down as well.

“Lindir, Master Oakenshield and I wish to see the last communication I received from his grandfather, Thror. It would be from around 2770 or shortly thereafter,” Elrond informed a dark haired elf who bowed and went down the spiraling stairs to a lower level.

While they waited for the scholar to locate what they sought, they took seats at one of the tables and Thorin asked, “Have the females of my company been shown this place?”

“Not to my knowledge. Do they enjoy reading?”

“Miss Baggins has mentioned something to that effect and Ori is a scribe apprenticed to Balin. Actually, I believe all three would enjoy this.”

“You may show them if you wish. You are all welcome in here as long as you do not damage any of the writings. If any of you wish to borrow anything during your stay, speak to Lindir. He will help you.”

Said elf returned with a small scroll case and handed it to his Lord. Elrond opened it and pulled out three documents.

“This is the letter I wrote to Thror, which was thrown back into the faces of my emissaries,” he said handing one document to Thorin. “When they asked for a written refusal of aid, this is what they were given,” Elrond continued handing a second document to him.

“And the third?”

“It is a report about events surrounding the first two,” Elrond said, handing that to him as well.

The Dwarf King first picked up Elrond's letter. The mark that said his grandfather had read it was there at the top, just as he was taught to automatically do with his own mark after reading a document. The letter contained the expected offer of aid in the form of a specified amount of foodstuff. It also contained an offer of healing to the sick and wounded as well as a safe haven for expectant mothers to give birth and recover. It was polite and generous. Part of him had hoped it was written in offensive language that might, _might,_ excuse a refusal.

Thorin put it down and picked up the letter from Thror. It was very short.

_Thror, son of Dain I, needs nothing from leaf-eating tree-shaggers._

Thorin recognized this handwriting. It belonged to Nar, his grandfather's companion. Often the only one Thror would allow in his presence. And there, at the bottom, was his grandfather's signature and seal. Everything pointed to this being an authentic communique from his grandfather.

 _'How could he_ do _this?! How much of his people's suffering was because of Thror's madness?'_   Thorin wondered appalled.

“Do you know who acted as messenger?”

“My sons, Elladan and Elrohir, delivered these,” Elrond informed him.

The Lord's own sons. It seemed Elrond had extended every courtesy and respect to the King of Durin's Folk. And still the aid had been rudely refused.

The Elf Lord sighed. “Perhaps I should have been persistent, but Lady Galadriel lost two of her people to unknown sources, so I decided against risking any more of my own.”

“You made the offer. That is more than I was aware you had done.”

Thorin picked up the third document and read through it. It contained little more than what Elrond had told him.

“Would it be possible to speak with your sons regarding this matter?”

“They are not here at the moment. They often travel with the Rangers of the North and could arrive back at anytime. I will let you know if they return while you are here,” Elrond informed him.

“I would appreciate that. May I show these to Balin?”

“Of course. Just see to it they are returned before you leave Rivendell.”

The dwarf put the documents back into their case. He bowed his head briefly in thanks and left.

 

oOoOoOo

 

When Thorin returned to the suite he found his company awake and preparing for breakfast. _'Now is the time,'_ he told himself even though he still dreaded talking about it.

Calling them all together he began.

“Last night, thanks to Tharkun - thanks to Gandalf,” he added for the hobbit's benefit, “I discovered the fate of my father. The wizard found him seventy six years ago. Mad and dying, all my father was capable of doing was entrusting the key and map to the wizard and bid him to deliver it to me, though he could not remember my name or even his own. Gandalf did not know I was the intended recipient until we met several months ago, a meeting that began the groundwork for the quest we are now on.”

“He is dead then,” Balin mourned. “We are sorry, laddie.”

The other dwarves shared their condolences.

Nodding his acceptance, Thorin dismissed them to finish preparing for breakfast. The hobbit however, approached him.

“I am so sorry about your father,” Bilba said. “If you ever want to talk about it, I would be willing to listen.”

Recalling the conversation on their second night in Rivendell, Thorin told her, “I can not say whether it is better or not to know. It is a relief to finally know what happened to him, but...”

“You feel guilty about feeling relief?” she guessed.

“Yes.”

“Before my father passed away it had been years since he was able to get out of bed on his own. The last several months of his life he barely had the energy to move his arms and could not remain awake for an hour at a time. A fit he had a few weeks before he died robbed him of his speech and most of what mobility he had left. I could see in his eyes his despair and how much he wanted to pass from this life. When he finally did, I felt some relief, not that I had lost my father, but that he no longer suffered. I still feel bad for it,” she confessed looking down at her feet. “Even so, I think both of our guilt is misplaced. Perhaps it is part of the grieving process.” Laying a hand on one of his arms she told him, “You are not relieved that he is dead, just that you finally have answers. Mourn him and get your closure. That is no disrespect to his memory.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Bilba gave him a gentle smile. “You are welcome.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

After breakfast Thorin pulled Balin aside.

“Walk with me,” the King-in-Exile requested. He did not want to have this discussion where they might be overheard. Many in his company were quite nosy and liked to involve themselves in other people's conversations.

“Did you want to talk about your father?” Balin asked.

“He is a part of what I wish to share, yes.”

When they were someplace he thought they would have uninterrupted privacy Thorin swore Balin to secrecy and told his friend and advisor everything. Meeting Lady Galadriel and the conversations they had held, the meeting she had invited him to, the dragon, the White Wizard, the One Ring, Sauron and his role in Thrain's death, every warning, every reaction. Everything. Even what had been said about Bilba Baggins. Then he showed Balin the letters in the scroll case and shared what he had been told about them.

“What do you think?” Thorin asked when he finished.

Balin stared back at him with a horrified expression. “I donna want to believe it's true. This certainly looks like Nar's handwriting and your grandfather’s seal. I suppose it is possible the letter is a forgery, but if it is, I have never seen one done with such skill. And all this information together is too horrible to be some trick.”

“I see no reason for the elves and Tharkun to make up such terrible information, so despite my distrust of elves, I am inclined to believe them as well.”

“What now?” the white haired dwarf asked.

“There will be another meeting after Elrond reads the map to plan things further.”

“So, for now we wait,” surmised Balin. 

“I know I ain't as learned as ye are,” a voice came from a corner that was darkened by the presence of a tree, “but da chatter I've been listnin' in on makes me think dey's tellin' da trueff.”

“Nori,” Thorin growled. “How long have you been there?”

“Since ye started talking. Never even noticed me. Ye wouldna have notice me eiffer if I hadna said anyffing, but I ffought ye oughtta know wha' I heard from da leaf-eaters.”

“What have you heard?” Thorin asked.

“One o' da elves was worried dat if ye cracked, ye might side wiff da Dark Lord 'n tell 'im everyffin',” Nori scoffed. “Dat tall blonde she-elf said even if ye was barmy 'nough ta walk around with a boot as a crown, she was confiden' ye wouldna do dat.”

“Have you been spying on the elves since we arrived?” Balin asked.

“Yep. I take me sister's safety seriously.”

“Have you seen any sign of trickery on their part?” inquired Thorin.

“Nope. Just dat dey find us annoyin',” the thief grinned.

Thorin crossed his left arm across his chest and rested his other elbow on the wrist and brought his right hand up to his mouth to think. Lady Galadriel spoke of rebuilding trust, but he was not one for blind faith. Having Nori spy might actually help build the trust she wanted, depending on what he found of course.

“Keep it up. Report what you learn back to me,” the King-in-Exile ordered.

“Ye wanna know which garden some o' da leaf-eaters use fer shaggin'?”

Balin looked taken aback and slightly disgusted.

Thorin closed his eyes and breathed. “Only so I know which one to stay away from.” He reopened his eyes, but immediately narrowed them at the thief. “And which one to keep my nephews away from.”

“I seen worse dan two elfs goin' at it. It's da highest garden on de west side,” Nori shrugged and pointed in the appropriate direction. “Na' very big, just grass n' one tree in da middle. Der's a rosebush hedge so ye canna see inside from da walkway. Na' seen any ovffer like it here.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Nori, what you heard us speak of is to be kept confidential. You tell no one,” Thorin giving the thief an intense look, every inch a king that had better be obeyed or there would be Consequences.

“Ya, ya. I know how ta keep me yap shut!”

“Is there anyone in Ered Luin you wish to write a letter to?”

“Na. I donna care for anyone 'sept Ori n' Dori. Donna tell Dori dat. Mum's dead n' who knows who me da is. Hope tain't one o' ye. Dat'd just be weird.”

“Rest assured, I never laid with your mother,” Balin responded.

There were several different types of dwarf women a male could share that sort of relief with. Females that had devoted themselves to their craft, or some females that had lost their One's to death but still wanted to get laid now and again, or females so poor they sold their body to support themselves, like Nori's mother had.

Thorin preferred the first, had occasionally satisfied himself with the second, but had never used the third. He sought to better his people's station in life but he would not do it by taking advantage of financially desperate women.

He also made sure there were never any offspring from his dalliances. Children were always treasured. Dori, Nori, and Ori were not thought less of because of the circumstances of their birth, but an illegitimate child to the royal line would just complicate things.

“Nor I,” Thorin stated. “Off to your skulking then.”

Nori gave him a salute and he slunk off.

“You might have just found yourself a new Spymaster,” Balin said when the thief was gone. “Who knew Spider would be so difficult to replace?”

“Perhaps,” Thorin said giving his friend a half smile. “Let us see what he learns first.”

 

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on him being part of that scene, but sneaky Nori showed up anyways.


	15. Another Day in Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {...} elvish  
> [...] Khuzdul  
> /…\ Iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
> Some Bilba & Bifur friendship and a little bit more Nori for [2ClassySluts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/2ClassySluts/pseuds/2ClassySluts).

oOoOoOo

 

After breakfast, while Thorin and Balin (and Nori) were having their discussion, Bifur picked up his bag of carving tools and supplies and took them up the stairs to a small sitting area that was shaded by a tree. He was sitting there working on a new project when Bilba came across him some time later.

“Hello, Bifur.”

The injured dwarf grunted what the hobbit hoped was a greeting.

“This is a lovely spot you have found. Do you mind if I join you?”

When he grunted again and pointed to the place beside him, Bilba took that as permission and sat.

“Do you mind if I talk?”

He shook his head.

“Alright. If I am bothering you, let me know and I’ll go away. I’m sure you can convey that without words. Thorin does it well enough.”

A soft chuckle escaped the the dwarf and he nodded.

“Ori said you are a toymaker. You must be very fond of children,” Bilba said.

Bifur smiled and grunted.

“I bet you spoil Bombur’s girls rotten, don’t you!”

Bifur laughed and nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Are you carving another toy like those animals you gave to Lily’s children back in Bree?”

Bifur nodded and raised the piece of wood he had been working on so she could see it better. He pointed out several places on it while growling in the strange language he used to speak with the other dwarves. When he looked up at her his eyes turned sad and his shoulders slumped a little as if he had forgotten for a moment that she could not understand him. His hand clenched around his knife and he looked back down to his carving.

Bilba touched his arm in sympathy. “It must be frustrating to not be able to communicate as you wish. Is that the dwarves’ private language you speak?”

Bifur nodded.

“Is that the only language you can speak after your injury?”

Another nod.

“Well then, we will just have to find our own way of communicating with each other,” Bilba smiled at him.

This seemed to cheer him up. He sat a little taller and smiled at her anyways. Then he startled her by throwing a second block of wood over the railing to the left and onto the balcony that was attached to the suite of rooms they had been given. A second later a startled shout reached them. The block of wood was tossed back up at them and then a few more seconds later Bofur and his funny hat popped up over the railing.

“Whatcha do that fer?” he asked.

Bifur grunted at him in the dwarven language. His cousin gave him a considering look.

“Ya know, that might be a good idea. I’ll go see,” he said and dropped back out of sight.

“How do I ask you what _that_ was about using just questions that can be answered with ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” Bilba demanded.

Bifur laughed and shrugged a shoulder.

“Shall I try to guess what you are carving, then?”

He raised the wood back up for her to examine.

It was roughly V shaped, but there was no detail yet to help. Pointing to the two branching parts Bilba asked, “Are these wings?”

Bifur nodded.

“A bird of some sort?”

A shake of the head.

“Something with wings but not a bird, hmm?”

He smiled at her in a teasing way.

Bilba looked around for inspiration. That was when a ladybug landed on her hand. “Oh! Is it some sort of insect?” she asked slowly raising her hand up towards her face to get a better look at the small red bug, then turned to look at her companion.

She received a smile and a nod.

“OK. It is an insect with the general shape of a bird. Does it have only two wings?”

Another shake of the head.

“Four?”

A nod.

Four wings and a general bird shape. What could that be? It would have to be something children would be interested in. Inspiration struck.

“Is it a butterfly?”

Bifur smiled widely, put his knife and wood down in his lap and clapped.

Bilba laughed in delight. “I would very much like to see it when you are done. The two you gave to Lily's children were beautiful.”

The injured dwarf smiled and bowed slightly in promise to do so.

Then Bilba thought of something. “You didn’t ask to teach me the dwarf language did you?”

The dwarf shook his black and white hair then stopped abruptly and brought his hand up parallel to the ground and tilted it side to side in the general ‘sort of, kind of, maybe’ gesture.

“Sort of? How can you _sort of_ ask that?”

“He asked if you could be taught Iglishmek, our hand gesture language, not our spoken language,” Thorin said coming up the stairs.

“Oh. Oh!” Turning to Bifur she grinned, “A sign language! So we could communicate with one another! That would be splendid.”

Bifur spoke rapidly to Thorin in their language. The Dwarf King listened to what he had to say.

“I will admit it could be useful for her to understand the signals," Thorin conceded. "I will consider if this merits an exception to the rule.”

“Is the sign language secret too?” Bilba asked a little disappointed.

“Yes, but not as much so as our spoken language. It is not unheard of for dwarf-friends to be taught Iglishmek, but it is not often that members of other races prove themselves worthy of such an honor.”

“Oh,” she said crestfallen.

“I said I would consider it. That is not necessarily a 'no', Burglar,” Thorin reminded her. “Lord Elrond has offered to have letters delivered to Ered Luin and the Shire should you wish to write any.”

“Yes,” Bilba said quickly. “Yes, I should write to my grandparents and let them know I am well.”

“Is there anyone you would like to write to, Bifur?” Thorin asked.

“[Aye,]” the toymaker rumbled.

“Very well. Some writing supplies have been delivered. When you have finished your letters, give them to Balin or myself. We will see that Lord Elrond gets them. I will be asking him for permission to use his smithy to repair several items. Do either of you have any metalwork that needs to be repaired?”

“I do not,” Bilba answered.

“[Nothing important for traveling, just a few damaged tools,]” Bifur replied.

“Give those to me anyway. I will see what I can do with them,” Thorin advised.

Bifur dug in his bag and pulled out a bundle wrapped in leather and handed it to him.

Thorin took it then left them to their conversation and sought out Balin.

“Bifur has asked if Bilba could be taught Iglishmek. I have told them I would consider it,” he informed his friend when he found him.

“That sounds like it could be useful on the journey for something besides giving Bilba and Bifur a way to communicate. What makes you hesitate?” Balin asked.

“My own feelings,” Thorin admitted. “I would like to grant permission, but I do not know if that is because of the way I feel about her personally and what I hope to have with her someday, or if she has earned the trust to be named dwarf-friend.”

“You are bitter and distrustful, some might even say paranoid. Do really you think you would have fallen in love with the lass if your instincts told you she wasn't worthy of such trust?” Balin mused.

The King-in-Exile considered the question. No, he did not think he would have.

“The lads expressed surprise that she had packed that fancy dress she wore to dinner the first night here with her on the journey,” Balin continued. “I reminded them that, with her situation, everything Bilba can call her own could be in that pack she carries. She may never see her Shire again. She may very well have given up her home and everything she has ever known to try to help us reclaim ours. She is aware she may be risking her life to do so and she still came. That sounds like a friend to me. And a very good one at that,” Balin reasoned.

That was a good point. One of the things about her that had touched his heart deeply was that she had welcomed them all into her home as friends and was forming strong relationships with all the members of the company. She was encouraging them to grow and become their best. Look at Ori. Thorin believed he had heard her speak more often since she had met the hobbit than in all the years it had been since Balin had taken her on as an apprentice!

“Thank you, Balin.”

“You’re welcome, laddie.”

 

oOoOoOo

 

On his way to the dining room for the midday meal Thorin encountered Lord Elrond and two remarkably similar looking elves in the halls.

“How fortunate,” Elrond smiled. “Boys, may I introduce Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Master Oakenshield, these are my sons, Elladan and Elrohir. They have just returned. You expressed a desire to speak with them about the message they carried to your grandfather.”

The two identical elves looked curiously at the dwarf and bowed. He nodded his head in return.

“Yes, that is correct,” Thorin said, “but there is something I wish to ask you though.”

“Go on,” the Elf Lord said.

“My company has several small repairs that need to be done. Would it be possible to use your smithy?”

“Of course. Do you need any materials?”

“No, just the normal tools.”

“It is at your disposal. Perhaps after the midday meal, my sons can show you where it is located, so that you may arrange a time with the Forge Master.”

“Yes, Ada,” they said in unison.

 _'Twins,'_ Thorin mentally sighed.

Thorin ate lunch as quickly as propriety would allow. He was anxious to hear the brothers’ account, but it was not something he wished to discuss in the company of so many. It was a relief when the elves too were finished eating.

"{Behave yourselves or I might leave you to the mercy of your grandmother,}" Lord Elrond told his sons.

Though Lady Galadriel smiled at them, it brought fangs, not affection, to the brother's minds.

"Yes, Ada," they bowed.

 

oOoOoOo

 

The group of conspirators lingered in the dining hall after the midday meal until they were the only ones left.

“Any information on our targets that could help us further our plan?” asked the wizard.

Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Bifur, Bofur, Nori and Ori sat with Elrond, Galadriel, Arwen and her two ladies-in-waiting.

“Thorin asked my permission to use the smithy to do some repair work,” responded Elrond. “I granted it of course. My sons should be showing him its location now.”

“Bilba’d be interested in seeing _that!_ The lass has shown a bit o’ fascination fer blacksmiths,” smirked Dwalin.

Those that had been there in Bree grinned. With so many minds recalling it, Galadriel easily Saw the mentioned event and let out gentle laugh. Arwen looked curious at Ori when she giggled.

“I’ll tell you later,” Ori told the elf softly.

“Bilba likes to explore the city. Could she be led to him without her knowing she is being led?” asked Fili. Kili nodded enthusiastically.

“That should be easy enough,” Arwen stated. “Do we know when he will be working there?”

“Thorin did mention hoping to be able to start work in the smithy tomorrow morning if Lord Elrond gave his permission,” Balin said nodding to the Elf Lord.

“It will be up to the Forge Master when room can be made available for him. It may be possible for that to be tomorrow,” the Elrond informed them.

“Very well,” smiled Gandalf. “Bilba is to be guided to the smithy when he is working in it so that she may see Thorin at his craft. That is the plan. Now we should be off before anyone has a chance to become suspicious.”

“A moment,” Elrond stopped the group. “I want everyone involved in this project to agree to something.”

“What is that?” inquired Gandalf.

“No one tells either of them how the other feels. Let them discover their feelings themselves. I think we will interfere enough as it is,” Elrond insisted.

“It will be better for them in the long run, no matter how long it may take,” Galadriel agreed.

Everyone nodded in agreement, though some knew it would be harder for themselves to keep it a secret than others.

“I wonder who will confess their feelings first,” wondered Ori.

“Bilba,” was the near unanimous response.

“Na me,” Nori grinned. “I like Thorin fer dat.”

“I agree with you, Master Nori,” Galadriel said.

“Have you Seen something?” quizzed Gandalf.

“I have not. It is just my opinion,” the Lady smiled.

“I can just imagine it,” Nori said. “He’ll be upset ‘bout somethin’, probably somethin’ she did, ‘n just blurt it out while he’s yellin’ at her.”

“Now _that_ sounds like Uncle!” Fili laughed.

The group split up and went off to their own activities. Nori's destination was the smithy. He hoped to catch up in time to overhear a certain conversation between two elves and his king.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Rivendell was built at the base of the mountain with some of the tiers of the city climbing up the slope. This left much of the valley open for orchards, farming, and grazing for the animals the elves kept for purposes beside eating. The smithy was located on the edge of the city, most likely to lessen the damage that could be done should the flame of the forge burn out of control.

Thorin inspected the building from the doorway as best he could. There were several smiths at work and safety was the responsibility of _everyone_ that entered an active smithy. A few moments later they were greeted by a blonde elf. The brothers introduced him as the Forge Master in charge. He agreed to have a space allotted for Thorin to work in the following morning.

That taken care of, the dwarf asked to speak with the twins somewhere with privacy. Nori caught sight of them just as they were leaving. When the three took seats on a balcony, the thief was able to use the roof of a lower level and the architectural stone carvings on the walls to find his own seat just below the balcony railing that was out of their sight but still in hearing range.

Recalling that twins often carried on conversations with others as if they were one person, Thorin made sure to sit so that both were before him. Turning his head every few seconds would be tedious.

“You delivered a message to my grandfather, King Thror around 2770,” Thorin began. “Do you know the occasion I am speaking of?”

They looked at one another. “We believe so,” one said.

“The message offered aid to your people after the dragon took your home,” said the other.

“Your grandfather refused that aid,” the first spoke again.

“Rather rudely, too,” the second added.

As expected, they spoke back and forth. While they were not actually finishing each other’s sentences, Thorin would be willing to wager they could do so if they wished. He also could not tell them apart. They were even dressed similarly. Mentally he decided to call them Right and Left. “So, you actually spoke with King Thror?”

“We did,” Right answered.

“Were there any others present at the time?” Thorin asked.

“There was another dwarf there,” replied Left.

“Nar, I believe his name was,” Right informed him.

“He penned the actual written refusal we brought back to our father,” disclosed Left.

“Did you speak with anyone else?” the dwarf inquired.

“Just some guards to inform them that we were delivering a message from Lord Elrond of Rivendell,” shrugged Right.

“Did you mention that it was an offer of aid?” Thorin questioned.

They looked at one another. “Should we have?” asked Left.

“I am trying to establish who knew of the offer,” the King-in-Exile explained.

“King Thror and Nar were the only ones present for that discussion,” Right informed him.

“We did not think to mention it to anyone else,” said Left.

“Did Nar say anything during the meeting?” Thorin asked.

They glanced at each other once again. “Not to us,” Right hedged.

“He whispered only to the King,” Left told him.

“I have heard that elves have very keen hearing. Were you able to hear what he said?”

They looked uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Right said.

“He really was not speaking all that softly,” Left explained.

“What did he say?” the dwarf asked firmly.

“That elves were not to be trusted,” Right said, offended.

“That it was a trick to rob your people of your women and children,” sneered Left.

“That we were plotting to destroy your race.” Right scoffed.

“None of which is true, of course,” Left assured him.

They exchanged another look, this one obviously asking each other if they should mention something in particular.

Thorin was not going to put up with information being held back. “What else?” he demanded.

“Nar also said that accepting aid, and from elves at that, would just show his people that he was weak,” Right disclosed.

“You are _sure_ Nar said that?” Thorin asked astonished.

“Doubt us if you will, but that is what he said,” Left asserted.

Some of what they said Thorin could easily believe. Of all his council members, Nar was most adamant in his distrust of outsiders of any sort. If anything did ever come of Thorin’s own feelings for the hobbit, Nar would most assuredly object. He had kept the contentious dwarf on the council only out of respect to his grandfather’s memory. If all he was learning here was true, that may have been a mistake. Had Nar's presence _exacerbated_ Thror’s madness?

“I was unaware that your father had offered aid to us until just a few days ago,” Thorin explained. “I am sure you can understand that I am curious about what happened and why my grandfather refused help.”

They smiled. “We will admit that we are often, as our grandmother puts it, lively, but we were perfectly behaved while we were there,” Right assured him.

“It would have shamed our father if on a diplomatic mission our mischievous side caused an incident. Imagine if we had had to flee from an army of insulted dwarves!” Left grinned.

“Is there anything else you can recall? Anything at all?” Thorin urged.

“No, that is all,” stated Right.

“So you know of no legitimate reason why the offer was refused?” Thorin pressed.

“None,” Left maintained.

The dwarf thanked them for their time.

“We are sorry we could not do more for your people,” Right apologized.

Elladan and Elrohir bowed in unison. Thorin nodded his head in return, and they parted company.

Nori waited a few minutes before climbing over the railing and following.

 

oOoOoOo

 

That night at dinner, Elrond ordered a fine wine to be brought out. When everyone had a goblet, he deferred to Thorin for any words he wished to speak.

“Tonight we honor Thrain, son of Thror, who has passed from this life. May he feast in Mahal’s Halls. [May he feast in Mahal’s Halls,]” he repeated in Khuzdul.

“[May he feast in Mahal’s Halls,]” the dwarves echoed, raising their goblets then drinking. The elves, hobbit, and wizard followed suit.

“[Goodbye Father,]” Thorin said softly.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Elsewhere in Middle Earth, six dwarves sat around a campfire.

“Is this the right thin’ to do?” one asked quietly after the seventh member and leader of their group had stepped away for a moment.

“She deserves to know his fate,” the eldest said. “It would be wrong of us to keep her from tryin’ ta discover it.”

“What if he's alive?” asked another.

“Then we should be happy for them,” a fourth said.

“What if he hates us?” the youngest asked softly.

They all looked at one another knowing it was a distinct possibility.

“She has my devotion and loyalty either way,” the last dwarf proclaimed. “We must support her, no matter what the outcome is.”

 

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing these last several chapters I realized that there is soooo much more going on in this story than I had originally planned. This means the story will probably ended up being longer than I had thought. 
> 
> I blame [Flamethrower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower) and their fantastic [Re-Entry series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10129) (epic saga) for the inspiration. If anyone is interested in a Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon Star Wars fic, I highly recommend it.


	16. The Plot Thickens... Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information is shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {...} - elvish  
> [...] - Khuzdul  
> /…\ - Iglishmek  
> ((…)) - telepathy  
>  _Italics_ \- flashback
> 
> A big thank you to Wolveyaon for reading through Nori’s story to make sure it made sense after all my editing. Mistakes are still mine. I hope I didn't butcher the little Khuzdul I used.
> 
> I have read several stories where Vili is the name of Fili’s and Kili’s father. I don’t know where it came from or who started it, but I like it so I’m using too.
> 
> Thorin’s family tree is up on my Deviant Art account if anyone is interested. It might be useful as a reference for this chapter and probably the next.

oOoOoOo

While the company lounged in their suite after dinner, Thorin decided it was time to pull Balin away to discuss his conversation with the sons of Lord Elrond. He met Nori’s eye across the room. The King-in-Exile motioned with his chin to the garden hoping to convey to the thief that he could join them, openly this time. Nori nodded and moved from his place. Thorin then sought out Balin.

As the two older dwarves stepped into the garden, they found Nori already waiting for them. Thorin led the other two to the far side of the garden and through an archway where there was a small alcove with a table and chairs.

After taking their seats he told them what the elves had said. Thorin noted that Nori did not look surprised.

“Do you believe them?” Balin asked.

“Enough to want to look into it, especially because Nar has been very vocal about his distrust for _any_ outsiders. What do you think, Nori?”

Nori was surprised. His King was asking him for his opinion! Him! A _thief!_

Did that mean that Thorin trusted him? Did that mean that he could trust Thorin in turn?

Nori wasn’t as concerned about Balin. The thief was pretty sure he’d gotten the measure of the white haired dwarf when he had been choosing an apprentice. Nori had paid several bribes to try to make sure the adviser considered Ori. Balin had refused the one offered to him.

_Flashback_

_“Some of these applicants are sons of nobles that could, and some of them have, offer me more than you have. I refused them all, just as I am refusing you, laddie. I am interested in skill, potential, and temperament, not circumstance of birth or social standing. I’ll not waste years of my time training a poor fit for the sake of a bag of gold. Now,” Balin continued giving the thief a look, “does your sister know you are here?”_

_Nori shook his head._

_“I am glad to hear it, laddie. If she had sent you to do this I would have had to remove her from consideration.”_

_End Flashback_

That cemented in the thief’s mind that the adviser was aboveboard. Nori could tell Balin knew how to play the game. That he refused to do so for something that could affect something as important as someone’s craft had made him want the apprenticeship for his sister even more. Nori was grateful it had worked out that way.

Now he just had to decide if he could trust the King enough to tell them about his ‘project’. He had not had any interaction with Thorin before this quest, but nothing he had heard, or since then learned, about the King-in-Exile made the thief believe that Thorin was involved in it. He hadn’t even been born when it had begun. But if Nori was wrong, he could find himself very, _very_ dead.

The King _could_ be an arrogant arse. That was probably common for anyone in his position, but he hadn’t treated Nori as if he was less than the other members of the company.

Certainly no one could doubt Thorin’s courage to do what he saw as necessary. Facing the foe that had just killed his grandfather. Standing against a dragon when hardly more than Battle Ready and choosing to go back now, and very likely face it again. These were not the actions of a coward. Nor were they the actions of a selfish ruler that would abandon his people for his own convenience.

Nori acknowledge that Thorin also did have a reputation of being fair when called upon to make rulings.

Afal, a fellow thief Nori knew, had once faced the King’s Judgment. Some of the more zealous guards (aiming for a promotion with a quick resolution) had accused him of murdering a dwarf he had publicly threatened to kill. Several hours after they had argued, a pool of blood had been discovered in front of the other dwarf’s lodgings. There was no body, but with the known bad feelings between the two, and Nori’s associate’s less than clean record, the guards had arrested him. They brought him before the King the next day where every crime he had ever been arrested for had been listed as evidence against him.

The way Nori had heard it, both Thorin and Dwalin had been furious about the lack investigation and actual evidence for such a serious accusation since the penalty for murder was exile or death. He wished he’d been there to hear the dressing down the guards had gotten for wasting the King's time with their shoddy effort. Thorin had allowed them to keep Afal imprisoned for the time being, but ordered a more thorough investigation to supervised by Dwalin.

The dwarf believed to have been murdered was found stumbling around in the mines a day or two later. It turned out that he had gotten absolutely sloshed at his favored pub after the argument with Afal. When he had returned home he’d managed to fall out an upper story window, landing on his head three stories below and knocking himself out. He’d been disorientated when he’d come to and wandered off.

When Afal had been released, he had headed straight to his own favorite tavern, singing praises to ‘our wise and just King’. The cheapskate had even bought a round for the bar, happy to still be alive.

When they had left Ered Luin those guards still hadn’t seen a promotion.

Nori respected Thorin for not automatically assuming that Afal was guilty just because he had broken the law in the past. Did that mean _he_ would be taken seriously regardless of his criminal history?

There was also the bit he’d heard about Dwalin. He was pretty sure Thorin and Balin wouldn’t try to do that to the burly dwarf.

It looked like he would have to take a chance and tell them. If he wanted to stop what was happening, Thorin would have to find out sooner or later anyway. Nori knew he couldn’t do it alone.

Thorin and Balin were looking at the thief expectantly.

The look Nori was giving him made Thorin feel like he was being weighed and measured, as if his worth was being assessed. It did not feel as if it was his monetary wealth being evaluated, as one would expect of a thief, but his integrity and trustworthiness. That _was_ unexpected.

“Well? Have you heard anything that would make you believe one way or the other?” Thorin asked when it looked like Nori had finished his assessment.

“Have ye ever heard o’ da [Amrad Babanal]?” the thief asked.

The two older dwarves looked at one another.

“The Death Weaver? No,” said Thorin, turning back to Nori.

“Nor I,” Balin shook his head.

Nori nodded as if he wasn’t surprised they didn’t know. “Donna know if it has anythin’ ta do with Nar, but I’ve heard things dat makes me think someone high up could be dirty. Just no’ from da elves.”

“What to do you mean?” Thorin asked.

“Ye looked inta me sister’s life afore ye offered her da apprenticeship,” Nori gestured at Balin.

The two older dwarves both nodded. This was true. Any candidates for a position like Ori’s, one who would have easy access to the royal family, would have had their backgrounds checked.

“I know both o’ ye know wha’ I do,” Nori continued. “Da kind I associate with. Ye hear things,” the thief shrugged.

“Like what, laddie?” asked Balin.

“Now mind ye, what I got I ain’t sure ye’d take as actual proof. Mostly stories told in the underground, or dat's how it started fer me. Some are from before my time. Some even from before da dragon attacked.”

“Like what, Nori?” demanded Thorin.

“Like someone dat sometimes hires someone ta do things. Things like make things disappear, only sometimes those things is people. Sometimes it'd be arrangin’ ‘accidents.’ I heard of bandit raids on merchant caravans dat were no’ really bandits, but distractions ta hide da planned theft or murder.

“When Ori were born I promised meself dat I’d do what e’er it took ta make sure she’d never have ta sell herself ta survive like me mum had. When things were tight after Mum’s death several years later, I turned more ta means Dori donna approve o’,” the thief smirked. “Someone experienced in da shadier side o’ da mountain took me under his wing. I didna’ find out why he did that ‘til years later when he came ta me with dis book,” Nori said pulling out a small leather bound book about the size of his hand.

“Tales o’ da Amrad Babanal [Death Weaver] are whispered in da underground. I’d thought they were just that, tales and superstitions, but me mentor told me he were real. That he’d been one o’ his men fer years. As a bit o’ insurance, me mentor wrote down in this book every job he’d done fer da Amrad Babanal [Death Weaver].”

“Why did he bring it to you? Why has he, or you, not taken it to the guards before now?” asked Thorin.

“Me mentor tried after bringin’ this ta me. He made a second copy o’ da book ‘n he took it ta a group o' guards dat were nearby. Dey arrested him, but he didna make it ta the jail alive. He never made it ta the jail at all. I’d be willin’ to lay money down that if any o’ those flooded mine shafts back in Ered Luin were ta be emptied more dan one body’d be found. Dat's one o’ the reasons I’m tellin’ ye. Who ever da Death Weaver is, he’s got money ‘n power if he has guards working fer him. Asides,” Nori said giving him a look that told Thorin he thought it was a stupid question, “why’d dey believe _me_ with my record?”

“What made you believe your mentor was telling you the truth?” wondered Balin.

“One job, he’d said, weighed heavy on his conscience, one that made him question what he were doin’ so he decided ta look inta things. That job, his target, she had pleaded for her life because she had three young children ta support.” Nori swallowed harshly.

Thorin and Balin feared they knew where this was going.

“He confessed ta murdering me mum ‘n staging it ta look like suicide. That was the reason he’d looked after me. I had me knife at his throat. He told me if I was gonna kill him, he wouldna fight me, but he were tryin’ to put things right as best he could. Said he was goin’ ta go ta da guards ta turn himself in and tell dem what he’d found out n’ hoped I would keep lookin’ inta it if somethin' happened ta him. I followed him ta make sure he were doin’ like he said he was.”

“What exactly did he find? There must have been something that made him decide to finally share this with you and try reporting it to the guards,” reasoned Thorin.

“Among other things, he found out dat a member o’ the Royal House had been targeted and dat he weren’t da first. Me mentor said he’d done horrible things in his life but he were no traitor.”

“He must not have known you were descendants of Durin’s line and by killing your mother he would have already been considered a traitor,” said Thorin.

Nori nodded, “He were very upset when I told him dat. He said he'd tried to stop da assassination, but was too late. It’d revealed his change o’ heart to some o’ the Death Weaver’s other men, so he ran. Now dey was trying ta kill him too.”

Thorin blood went cold. If this was true, there was only one person Nori could be talking about. “Only one member of the Royal Family died in that time frame.”

“Aye. The lads’ Da,” confirmed the thief.

“You are telling me that my sister’s husband was murdered?!”

Vili had been a talented brewer. They had been told that he had been in the brewery's large storeroom when one of the tall racks had given way. Those that had gone to his aid had pulled barrels still leaking their contents from on top of him. As if that had not been bad enough, the healer that had examined him said that though the crush damage would have killed him eventually, he had actually drown in the alcohol.

“Aye,” the thief opened the book and flipped several pages. The last several entries before the handwriting changed had his brother-in-law’s name. "He'd apparently been targeted for years. There'd already been several attempts dat'd failed. Seems dey let a year or two go by between attempts. Probably ta keep from drawing suspicion."

Who would want to kill Vili and _why?_

Thorin remembered these incidents. There had been the falling boulder that had just missed Vili. The small fire in the brewery that everyone had worked quickly to contain. The poisonous snake in his travel pack, one of the very few breeds whose venom dwarves were susceptible to. According to this book, Vili had been drown first, then the rack had been collapsed on top of him.

Kili had never had the opportunity to meet his father. Dis had only recently discovered that she was with child when it had happened. If some of these earlier attempts had succeeded, neither of his nephews would have been born.

“You said Vili wasn’t the first. Who else has been targeted?” Balin asked in concern.

“The earliest death me mentor heard about were Princess Branwen.”

“Branwen! My father’s sister?! She died before I was even born!” exclaimed Thorin. “I have only heard the story from others. It was after the feast to celebrate her Adulthood. She had had too much to drink and…” Thorin paused in realization, “and _Nar_ offered to escort her back to her quarters.”

Balin nodded and continued the tale, “As the story goes he had not been much better off than she was. He said she was a giddy drunk and ran off ahead. He heard her scream and rushed after her. She was found on a concourse many stories below, her neck broken. Nar said he did not see her fall. Maybe he did. Maybe he did not.”

“Do you know who is behind this? The Amrad Babanal [Death Weaver]?” Thorin pressed the thief.

“I canna tell ye who it be. Me mentor didna know. Said he always wore a long hooded cloak ‘n mask when he met with any o’ his men. Could be Nar,” Nori shrugged. “A few o’ dem kinda jobs have come along, but I donna ever take ‘em, no matter how much dey may pay. Me mentor said da ones dat fail have a habit o’ disappearin’ themselves, ‘n I’m no’ desperate enough ta risk that. Not yet. I canna protect me sister if I’m dead.”

“Have there been any attempts on Thorin’s life?” pressed Balin.

“No’ dat I know of, but ye know dat fire in da guard house ‘bout a year ago?”

“Two guards were killed in that fire! You are telling me it was intentionally set?!” exclaimed Thorin.

“Mhmm, heard it were an attempt on yer brother’s life,” Nori said nodding at Balin.

“What?!” they both shouted.

“Nori, do you know why the victims were targeted? Are they connected in any way?” urged Thorin.

“I donna know of any motive, but I’ve noticed that lots o’ them seem to be blood relations ‘n sometimes their spouses.”

“Is that the reason you did not leave Ori in Ered Luin? Fear that whatever reason your mother was targeted might make your sister a target as well?” inquired Balin.

“Aye, for me part. I’ve na told Dori or Ori anythin’ ‘bout it though.”

“May I borrow the book?” requested Thorin.

Nori hesitated, even drew the book back to himself.

“You do not trust me?” Thorin asked, taken aback.

“Donna get me wrong. I’m loyal ta ye. I’m willin’ ta follow ye inta battle or e’en death if its called fer. I just donna know who is responsible fer this,” he said waving the book. “I’m taking a risk just tellin’ ya, ain’t I? Me trust in this matter just runs thin. Nothin’ personal,” Nori shrugged a bit uncomfortable.

“Very well. To investigate this further I will need to read it at some point. I am willing to do so in your presence if that would make you more comfortable,” Thorin acceded.

“Aye, it would.”

“Are you very familiar with the contents then? If I asked you a few names, could you tell me if they are written in there?” Thorin asked nodding his head at the book.

“Aye,” Nori told him with surety.

“Tarmus or his son Rasmus.”

“Aye. _Both_ o’ those names are listed as victims,” Nori reported, surprised. He quickly opened the book to one page and showed it to them. There was Tarmus’ name followed by the date and manner of death. Hunting ‘accident.’ A murder disguised as an encounter with a wild boar.

“And Rasmus?”

Nori flipped a few pages.

Rasmus’ death had been a controlled cave in while he had been doing repairs in Ered Luin. Those had been common during the first few years after they had started rebuilding in the ruins of Belegost. Thorin now wondered how many had been natural occurrences.

“How could we miss something like this?” Balin questioned.

“Perhaps we did not miss it entirely,” Thorin mused. “Perhaps we are only just now finding enough pieces to discover that there _is_ a puzzle.”

“What do you mean?” asked Balin.

Thorin told them.

_Flashback to Ered Luin 2801, two years after the Battle of Azanulbizar_

_The Firebeards and Broadbeams council representatives had asked for a private meeting. For some reason Thorin had an ominous feeling about it that he could not explain._

_After events in the First Age left the numbers of the Firebeards and the Broadbeams clans a fraction of what they had once been and their strongholds in the Blue Mountains decimated, the two clans had fled to Khazah-dum and have dwelt with the Longbeards ever since. Durin’s Folk now referred to all three clans, or all that followed the line of Durin. The Longbeards found this fitting. Of all the seven fathers only Durin had not had a wife that had been made for him by Mahal. His wife and the others that had joined him to form his clan had originally come from the other six._

_The Firebeards and Broadbeams kept some of their own autonomy, especially in matters of war, but they treated the king of the Longbeards as High King. The Royal Council had a contingent from each of the other two clans that consisted of three representatives to respect their place living with the Longbeards. Until the Battle of Azanulbizar, the heads of the clans, their kings, had been the lead representatives of their delegations on the council._

_Azog may have sworn to destroy the line of Durin, but he came far closer to ending two of the other royal houses of the seven dwarf clans._

_Many focused on the fact that King Thror had been killed in the Battle of Azanulbizar_ _, but they had lost far more than that. Three generations of Thorin’s family had fought in the battle. Ten family members were slain and one disappeared. Thorin’s maternal grandfather had been the king of the Firebeards, and his paternal grandmother’s brother had been the king of the Broadbeams. Both lords and their sons had been slain in the battle. Their wives had kept their positions in court, but there were no daughters that could potentially provide heirs like Dis had._

_At the appointed time the Firebeard and Broadbeam councilors, as well as their head scholars, entered Thorin’s office and bowed._

_“If I may, Your Highness?” Torvald, a Firebeard counselor whose red hair lived up to his clan’s name, asked raising one of the three large scrolls the group had brought with them._

_At Thorin’s nod, he unrolled it. Laid out flat, the document was slightly bigger than the surface of the young ruler’s desk. Thorin could see that it was an extensive family tree containing hundreds of names._

_“Our scholars have done as extensive research regarding our royal lines as they can using the records we were able to flee Erebor with. This is the family tree of the Firebeards’ royal house. Gunnarr holds one similar to this for the Broadbeams’ royal house.”_

_The brunette adviser rolled his own scroll out on top of the first._

_“How far back do those records go?” Thorin wondered._

_“The end of the Second Age, Your Highness,” one of the scholars informed him._

_“Have you discovered who the rightful heirs are?” the young royal asked._

_Glances were exchanged between the gathered group._

_“While we are all descendants of our first fathers,” Torvald spoke, “we have both discovered there is only one surviving male whose lineage we can actually trace to that source with the records that we have. The same male.”_

_“Is it possible to be heir to two clans?” Thorin questioned. “He would have to be a member of one clan or the other.”_

_“Officially, he is a member of a third clan,” Gunnarr revealed._

_“That_ does _sound like a complication,” Thorin stated._

_Torvald and Gunnarr looked at one another._

_“We believe we have a solution,” the red haired adviser stated._

_For two years following the Battle of Azanulbizar the scholars had studied their records. What they found was that because of it, Thorin would be the only known surviving male of the Firebeards and Broadbeams royal lines until the births of his nephews nearly fifty years later._

_“You are the heir to both, Your Highness. You are very closely related to the direct line. If you were not officially a Longbeard, there would be no confusion.”_

_Thorin was horrified. He stood and began pacing behind his desk. He had not even reach the age of Adulthood, and here he was, inheriting complete rule of not just one clan, but_ three!

 _The young King-in-Exile wanted to scream at them and ask how they could let_ all _their royal line fight in the battle, even though he knew it had been their duty to lead their army. Only his training and the fact that his line was little better stopped him._

 _Of all the male descendants of Durin that Thorin knew of, only two had not fought in the Battle of Azanulbizar_ _. Gror judged himself too old and had sent his son and grandson instead. Gloin_ had _wanted to go, but at only just sixteen years of age he had not been recognized as Battle Ready. If he had been older, he would have been allowed to fight as well._

_Thorin returned to his desk, though he remained standing. Putting his fists on it, Thorin leaned on his arms and stared at the names between his hands._

Tarmus 2600 - 2736 and his son Rasmus 2720 - 2786

_These names would stick in Thorin’s head for no reason he could fathom until he would hear Nori’s account one hundred twenty five years later. He had not known either of these very distant relations and both had died young. He wondered how they had perished._

_“What about these other lines?” Thorin said gesturing to the more distant branches._

_“They have all died out in the last seventy five years or so strangely enough,” Gunnarr frowned._

_“There is only you,” Torvald said. “You can claim the throne of each clan. In fact, we encourage you to do so.”_

_"What of your people? How do you think they would react?" Thorin asked._

_"Long have our clans looked to your line as our rulers,” Gunnarr declared. “This would merely make it official. We foresee very little resistance.”_

_“There is more, Your Highness. This discovery, of course, made some of our scholars curious, and they decided to look further into your lineage,” Torvald disclosed._

_The King stood up straight again as they rolled out the third smaller scroll on top of the first two._

_“They were astounded to find that you carry the blood of all seven royal lines just from the lasts several generations alone,” the redhead continued. “I do not know what kind of implications that might carry. This is why we asked to speak with you in private.”_

_“Who knows of all this?” Thorin asked softly._

_“Just those in this room, Your Highness.”_

_Thorin took a deep breath before speaking, “Keep it that way. I am choosing to remain King-in-Exile until such a time as we can find a way to reclaim Erebor. If we succeed in doing so, I will publicly claim the positions of the heads of your clans if another heir is not identified. Torvald and Gunnarr, the two of you served your heads of clan admirably. Until the time comes that I claim the throne, I would like to ask if you would serve as the lead representatives of your respective clans.”_

_“Everyone will think_ we _are the clan heads,” Torvald objected._

_“I think that might be best for now. The other four clans are not pleased with us over their losses in battle and they may see our officially joining in such a manner as a threat to their own sovereignty, especially considering I have the blood of their royal houses as well.”_

_Torvald and Gunnarr looked at each other in concern._

_“I do not ask you to lie. If someone asks outright if you are the clan heads you may tell them that you are not. You may say that he has asked you to serve in your post in his stead for the time being, but do not say that it is myself.”_

_“As you wish, Your Highness,” they bowed._

_End Flashback_

“So, you _are_ king of all three clans. I'd suspected it was a possibility,” Balin said.

Thorin nodded.

“My condolences, Yer Highness. Being king o’ one is more trouble dan I’d want, let alone three!” Nori commiserated.

“Thank you, but it is the time frame that troubles me. You said the Death Weaver has been active for around two hundred years. That is about the time the distant branches of the Firebeards and Broadbeams began dying out. What if that is who some of his targets were? The names I asked you about were the last of one of those branches.”

“Who’d benefit from killin’ off da royal lines? Asides yerself, o’ course.”

“Considering how much work it takes to manage a clan, I would not consider myself as benefiting,” Thorin said wryly.

“Aye! I donna doubt it!” laughed the thief.

“I think,” Balin said, “it is time to bring Dwalin in on this. As a captain of the guard he should be involved with investigating lawbreakers, especially something on this scale.”

“I agree he should be involved. Elrond should be able to read the moon runes tomorrow night and following that the White Council will meet. More of the plan should be decided then. I will bring Dwalin in on this after that.”

“I got a question fer ye, Thorin,” Nori said.

“Go ahead.”

“Do da lads know aboutcha plannin’ ta claim the head o’ all three clans after taking Erebor back? Cuz seems ta me if dey did, dey’d be runnin’ back da other way.”

Thorin gave the thief a rueful smile, “No, they do not, and you are not allowed to tell them. I will do it myself when the time is right.”

“Poor Fili,” Nori laughed once more and climbed over one of the walls and headed out into the elven city.

oOoOoOo

With Nori gone who knows where, Ori waited until Dori was distracted by a sympathetic Bilba to slip away from her fussy brother. She only went into the garden. The less Dori had to look for her the less nagging he would do.

Ori loved her brothers, she really did, but they could be rather suffocating. Most of the time she didn’t mind how protective they were. Dori had raised her more than their mother had because of the circumstances of their mother’s profession and then her death, and she knew Nori had turned to thievery as his own way of taking care of them. However, that didn’t mean she wanted them at her side every second of every day. Dori had tried to make sure at least one of them was with her since the males had bathed in the fountain. Apparently they had heard her comment on Dwalin’s muscles.

Sighing, Ori slumped down on a bench on the far side of the garden. This is where Bilba found her when she was going to go on her evening exploration after she had left Dori with her unwitting accomplice, Dwalin.

Ori sat looking down at her boots intently, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Sitting down next to her Bilba was mildly alarmed that she seemed to be near tears.

“Ori, what is wrong?” as Bilba spoke, she saw Balin and Thorin enter the garden through the arch a couple of yards down from where the two women were sitting.

Too upset to notice them behind her, Ori answered the question. “I have known for a while now that Dwalin is my One.”

Bilba saw the eyebrows of both males lift in surprise. Wanting to spare Ori embarrassment she quickly gestured behind the other female’s back for Balin and Thorin to go back the way they came.

“Is that not a good thing? To find your One?” The other two dwarves complied quickly and much more quietly than she thought dwarves could move, though once they were back through the doorway she saw them both peek their heads back around like little boys. She scowled at them and they disappeared out of sight again.

“Dwarves fall fast and hard and deeply. If we can not marry the one our heart has chosen, then we do not marry at all,” Ori sighed. “My brothers would never approve. I know why Nori wouldn’t like it. Dwalin has arrested him often enough. I don’t know what Dori has against him. Though I’m beginning to think they wouldn’t approve of anyone.”

“Dwalin could be the greatest hero in all of dwarf history and they wouldn’t believe him worthy of you. Not for any lack on Dwalin’s part, but because your brothers care so much for you,” Bilba smiled gently placing a hand over Ori’s clasped hands. “Have you mentioned anything to your brothers?”

“No, but after the fountain bathing incident they are suspicious that something is up.”

“Do you have any indication of how Dwalin feels about you?”

“No, and he doesn’t seem to be one to show such emotions either. Then there is the fact that Dwalin is so much higher ranked than I. He is a Captain of the Guard. His father was a Royal Council member. His brother _is_ a Royal Council member. He is also one of the King-in-Exile’s best friends and staunchest supporter. I am just a scribe. I’m nothing special.”

“Oh, Ori! That isn’t true. Don’t even think of yourself like that! May I remind you that _you_ are apprenticed to that Royal Council member brother and both he and Thorin acknowledge your skill. Thorin also treats all the members of the company much the same. If he treats you with respect, will not your people do the same? Besides who cares what anyone else thinks. It is _your_ life and _your_ happiness. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

Playfully looking around for any eavesdroppers, Bilba continued, “Let me tell you a secret. You are my friend. Now that part isn’t a secret, but let me inform you that I do not count boring, uninteresting people as friends! Those I merely tolerate out of politeness.”

That got a small giggle out of the young dwarf.

“So, we wait and we watch. Dwalin seems to enjoy watching you wield his war hammer in practice well enough, so I see no reason to give up hope yet. Cheer up. No tears. Nothing to cry over,” Bilba gave her an encouraging smile.

Ori returned a tremulous one.

“Ori! Where have you got to?” they heard Dori call from the entrance into the garden. “There you are. I don’t like you wandering around with all these leaf-eaters about.”

Bilba rolled her eyes at the continued grudge the dwarves held against the elves.

“I’m just here enjoying the garden with Bilba.”

“Come on. Let’s go rejoin the others. Bilba, you should come too,” Dori said.

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I will sit here for a little while longer. I will rejoin you soon,” she declined. She had two dwarves she needed to speak with in private.

After Dori and Ori had left, Bilba crossed through the arch and found a semi-enclosed sitting area. Her quarry had remained standing though.

“Honestly, from your behavior I’d almost think you two were Fili and Kili!" Bilba scolded. "Whether I find it amusing or not depends on what you have to say right now!”

They surprised her by laughing. Bilba thought Thorin laughing a very lovely sight and she wished he would do it more often, but if he was laughing at her dear friend's feelings then king or no king she would find a way to make him regret it.

“You are not helping your case, _‘Fili and Kili’_ ,” Bilba said crossing her arms.

Thorin spoke first, though it was more to Balin than her. “This is the sort of distraction I was afraid of occurring with bringing a female on this quest, but I never expected for _Ori_ to fall for _Dwalin!_ ”

“What is wrong with that?” Bilba demanded.

“It is _Dwalin!_ Sweet, shy, bookish Ori fell for gruff, intimidating, brawny _Dwalin!_ ” laughed the King.

“I still don’t see what is so funny about Ori’s feelings!”

That sobered them up.

“We are sorry, lass,” Balin apologized. “We weren’t laughing at Ori. Finding your One is no laughing matter and we should know better, especially at our age. We laughed because it’s, well, _Dwalin_.”

“He is Balin’s brother and as close as one to me,” Thorin explained. “We can not go harass him about this, so we were having our laugh together in private. Do you not have close friends or relatives back in the Shire you would want to tease if they were in a similar situation.”

“I suppose so. Drogo, a cousin on my father's side, has been head over heels for Primula, a cousin on my mother's side, since they were faunts. If she has noticed, she has never let on. But that isn’t what is important right now. What is important is what the two of you are going to do with the information.”

“Perhaps we can give Dwalin a nudge without disclosing Ori’s feelings,” Balin suggested.

“Balin, are you offering to help me play matchmaker?” Bilba said saucily.

“I love to see a couple fall in love and live happily together,” he grinned back.

“A bit of a romantic, eh Balin?” the hobbit smiled.

Thorin looked a little suspiciously at his adviser. Balin knew Bilba was his One. Was he going to try to play matchmaker for him, too?

“I am not so sure that is a good idea,” Thorin said. “I do not want to see a rift open between members of the company that may hinder our quest.”

“I’m not talking about locking them in a room together. Just giving them opportunities to interact without her brothers scowling over her shoulder. Besides, Dori needs to learn to let Ori live her own life,” Bilba insisted.

oOoOoOo


	17. A Forge, a Fountain, and Is That a Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of progress on the romance front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {...} elvish  
> [...] Khuzdul  
> /…\ Iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
> Thank you to everyone that commented, subscribed, bookmarked and/or left kudos!  
> A big thank you again to Wolveyaon for reading through this. Mistakes are all still mine.  
> Thorin's tattoos are up on my Deviant Art.  
> 

oOoOoOo

Doing the small repairs for his company had two purposes for Thorin. One was to make the actual repairs. The other was that crafting (working the metal, the heat of the forge, the physical exertion) helped him to think. Mahal knew he had much to think about: events of the past, things he learned here in the present, hopes and plans for the future, and of all that, what and how to write it in a letter to his mother and sister back in Ered Luin. It was going to be one of the most difficult he had ever had to write.

There was never an easy way to tell someone a loved one had died, whether it was in person or in writing. This was not the first time it was Thorin’s responsibility to do so. He had always preferred to do notifications in person when he could. It had always seemed more respectful of the dead. Now he had to inform his mother and sister that his father was dead in a letter.

In his head, the King-in-Exile cursed the wizard.

Thorin remembered leading the army back into Ered Luin after the Battle of Azanulbizar. He had ridden solo at the front of the column. That alone had been a sign of loss to those watching their arrival into the city. It should have been Thror in the lead followed closely by Thrain, Frerin and himself along with the kings of the Firebeards and Broadbeams clans and their sons, but they were all gone and it had fallen to him to lead the warriors into the mountain alone.

Along with arranging for the families of all the fallen to be notified and taken care of, it had been his responsibility to tell his mother, grandmother, sister and several other female relatives what had happened. Of the eighteen of their nearest relations that had marched off to war, only seven had returned to their homes.

His grandmother had never been the same afterwards. In one bloody battle she had lost her husband, a grandson, her brother, and both nephews and it left her only surviving child unaccounted for. She passed away several months later.

Dis had locked herself in her room for days. When he was not performing his new duties, Thorin had stood at her door listening to her cry. When she finally emerged she had thrown herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. In turn, his silent tears had wet her hair.

While his younger sister had shut herself away in her own room, Nis had sat in Frerin’s. Though their mother did not sit in there as often now as she had that first year after Frerin had died, she would not let anyone change it. To this day it looked just as it did when he had left. She even cleaned it herself.

A part of him feared his mother would follow his grandmother’s example when she learned about her husband’s fate even though she had already lived for so many years apart from Thrain. For a long time after he had disappeared Nis had not been able to bring herself to sleep in the bed she had shared with him, instead choosing to sleep on a couch in the family sitting room. She had survived losing a son, father, brother, nephew and father-in-law in the same battle in which her husband had disappeared. Had she resigned herself to his father’s death after so many years, or would this information be the final blow?

Thorin had also been the one to inform Dis about Vili’s death. She had demanded to see his body, unwilling to believe he was gone until she had done so. He had not wanted her to see him in that state, but he had no right to refuse her. Once again he had ended up holding his sister as she sobbed out her grief. The healers had put her on bed rest for a time because the stress of losing her husband had put the unborn Kili at risk too.

While he was hammering away on metal, Thorin thought for a long time about whether to include any information regarding Bilba and her being his One. They would be pleased that he had found her and it might bring a little joy after learning the fate of Thrain, but he still did not know if anything would ever come of it.

Then there were the refused offers of aid and Nar to consider. The counselor had always been very fond of Dis. Ever since she had been born Thorin and his siblings had been told she was the exact likeness of their father’s sister. They had supposed Nar’s fondness for her had been guilt for Branwen’s death occurring under his watch. There had been talk among those that had known the deceased princess that, perhaps like Durin, Dis was Branwen reborn. She always scoffed at that. Thorin was afraid that if he told them too much Dis might use that fondness to look into Nar’s activities, and that could be dangerous. Far more dangerous than he would willingly risk his sister over. Who knew how Nar would react in such a situation? He would just have to warn them to keep extra vigilant, especially around the councilor, until Thorin was able to investigate or confront him about what the elves had said.

He could not tell them all that Nori had shared either. It was not that he doubted the thief, but Thorin only had two names that happened to be written in Nori’s book. That was not enough information to be sure the Death Weaver not only existed, but was responsible for the Firebeard and Broadbeam branches ending. Though with all he had heard here in Rivendell, all the alarming information piling up, his gut was telling him it was too much to be a coincidence. There was just no way he was going to tell Dis that her husband may have been murdered without having some proof to back it up. He could not put her through that without something more substantial. Yet, he could not leave them completely ignorant should he and his company perish.

Perhaps Nori would permit a copy of the book to be made. Balin could do that quickly enough. What to do with it after that, though? He could not send it to Ered Luin with instructions to only be opened upon his death. His mother and sister would call him an idiot and read it anyways. Dis might even come after them so she could do it in person. No doubt with a lot of yelling and grabbing of his ear as if he were a misbehaving dwarfling.

Thorin winced.

No, he would have to leave it with someone else. As of right now, it looked like his options were Tharkun or the elves. Neither of which pleased him. He was still annoyed with the wizard for withholding the information about his father, and he was as yet unsure how much the elves could be trusted.

Thorin wished that Nori or his mentor had come to him earlier. Had either of them brought what they knew to him under normal circumstances, Thorin still would have had it looked into. He could understand their caution though and so could not lay blame at their feet.

Then the King-in-Exile realized that under normal circumstances they would not have had access to him. The only way someone with pasts like theirs would have had an audience with the king was if they were brought before him under heavy guard for Judgment. Access to the Royal Family was restricted for their own safety, but what about the welfare of his people? If Nori or his mentor had been able to bring what they knew directly to him, what might have been different? How many lives might have been saved?

It is possible Nori might have been able to accomplish it through Ori, but that would have been risking her safety and position as Balin’s apprentice. He doubted the thief would do that except at greatest need. This quest may have been the first opportunity Nori had been given. He must have been using their journey to evaluate Thorin’s character.

The King-in-Exile could not help but feel that he had failed in his duty to his people if this Death Weaver had been killing them for so long and he was only now realizing that something was wrong. Why had it not struck him as odd that the branches of the Firebeard and Broadbeam royal houses had ended, especially in such a short time? With the Ri’s mother and Dwalin targeted, did that mean the Line of Durin now faced the same threat? Or had they been targeted for other reasons?

Finished with the repair he was currently working on, the dwarf decided it was time for a quick break. He would step outside to to cool off a bit and get a drink from the barrel of water that was placed outside the door for those working in the smithy.

oOoOoOo

Elrond felt as if half the city had been enlisted to subtly block Bilba’s path to any place besides the smithy. There were even goats being used! Mithrandir was no doubt behind _that_.

The Elf Lord smiled as he watched Bilba give each goat a chin scratch as she passed them. One tried to nibble on her hair, but she laughed and ducked away continuing, unknowingly, on the path setup for her.

oOoOoOo

In her explorations of Rivendell, Bilba came across Thorin working in the elven smithy. She had heard the pounding of hammers on metal and followed the sound. Looking through the arched doorway she spotted the dwarf. On either side of the doorway was a partial wall with the top part left an open arch like the doorway. To the right of the door was a barrel with water and a ladle inside. On the left side was a stone bench. Bilba thought if she stood on the bench she would be able to see through the window. Trying it out she found she could even lean on the sill a little. This would allow her to watch Thorin work for a while without being in the way.

Thorin had stripped his armor off, leaving him in just his boots, trousers, and tunic. He had rolled the sleeves up past his elbows. Bilba watched the muscles on his forearms flex as he used a funny tool to bend a small piece of metal. She could see the muscles beneath his tunic bulge as he swung the hammer. She sighed in admiration. Before this, she would never have thought that smithing would be such a beautiful sight.

He had apparently finished with the piece he had been working on because he took it to a nearby workbench and laid it down. He then proceeded to the door next to where she was standing. As he stepped through the archway he pulled his tunic off up and over his head.

Startled, Bilba squeaked and took a step back away from the wall. Her foot found only air and she let out a small shout as she began to fall off the bench. She did not hit the ground though, because Thorin stepped forward and caught her in his arms bridal style. Her arms found their way naturally around his neck.

They stared at one another for several long moments. Neither noticed Ori, Balin, Dwalin, _or_ Gandalf peek around nearby corners. They didn’t notice Fili and Kili peeking down from the roof of the forge. They didn’t notice Bifur sitting in the branches of a nearby tree or when Bofur’s funny hatted head popped up over a railing. The two didn’t even notice when Ori had to pull a curious, but unaware, Dori back behind her corner. As the elven conspirators watched from much further away, it is unsurprising they were not noticed. No one saw Nori in his hiding spot.

Thorin was astonished. He held his One! She was so soft and fit perfectly in his arms. He wished he could continue holding her for the rest of his life. She was so close and she was looking up at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly open. He badly wanted to lower his head and take her lips in a kiss, but he dare not do anything of the sort lest she start to see him as being like that dishonorable whelp back in the Shire. He was disappointed that he was hot and sweaty and dirty from the forge. She was a fastidious creature about hygiene. He was probably disgusting her.

Bilba had come to another conclusion though. It was true she noticed that Thorin was hot and sweaty and dirty from working in the forge, but the hobbit thought it was the most gorgeous sight she had ever beheld. She wanted to run her hands through his hair. She wanted to run her hands all over his body. She could feel his hard muscles against her. Perhaps dwarves really _were_ made of rock! She sucked in an unsteady breath. She was startled by how much she wanted to dig her hands into his hair and pull his head down into a kiss. Willoughby Boffin's kiss was her only experience, and as unpleasant as that was, every instinct screamed that it would not be so with Thorin Oakenshield.

Coming (somewhat) back to himself, Thorin slowly leaned to the side and lowered the hobbit’s feet to the ground. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck though. This meant when he straightened back up their bodies were flush against one another because of their difference in height. In deference to the heat, she had removed her usual jacket and with the cut of her neckline this left the bare top of her bosom pressed against his chest. It felt wonderful, but he could not let himself dwell on such thoughts lest they start affecting him physically. That would just be _humiliating_. He did not even have a tunic on to hide such a thing. Not that cloth would hide it if she stayed pressed against him like this. He was also pretty sure he was blushing. He just hoped the hobbit attributed the color to the heat of the forge.

Bilba was fascinated by how tantalizing it felt to have the bare top of her breasts pressed against Thorin’s own bare skin. His chest had a light cover of hair, enough to give a bit of teasing texture to the touch, but not so much that there was more hair than skin. It was also not enough to hide the tattoo on his left breast. She could see that he had another tattoo on his left arm, but she couldn’t see what it actually was from where she was standing. The chest hair did not hide his muscle definition either as she discovered when she could finally bring herself to let go and take a polite step back. And, _Eru’s shiny beard_ , was he defined! Ori was right! This was _so_ much better than Lily’s husband!

“Are you alright?” Thorin asked.

“What?” Oh. She had fallen. Off a bench. And he had had to catch her to keep her from getting hurt. Bilba felt silly. Thorin probably thought her silly too! What do you say in a situation like this? The manners her mother had hammered into her asserted themselves. “Oh! Yes, of course. Er, thank you for catching me,” Bilba said.

"What were you doing?"

"I was exploring the city and I heard the hammering so I came over to watch you work. We don't have a blacksmith in Hobbiton, so I was curious to see what you actually do. I didn't know how safe it would be to enter and I didn't want to interrupt you, so I decided to watch from out here. I hope you don't mind. I don't want to bother you."

Great. She was babbling. And she knew her face must be the color of Master Gamgee's prize tomatoes. She was having a hard time pulling her gaze away from his bare chest, because... _Yavanna’s Blessed Garden!_ She was tempted to throw herself back into his arms so that she could feel him once again!

It was probably a good thing he didn't walk around their rooms like this or she would be running into walls regularly. Or falling flat on her face. She understood the phrase ‘weak in the knees’ now!

"I do not mind. You were correct to wait outside. It can be dangerous in a smithy, especially for someone unfamiliar with it,” Thorin said.

Noticing the hobbit’s face was very, _very_ red, he realized his bare chest was probably the cause. He had tried to have his tunic on in her presence to avoid the awkwardness they were now experiencing. Thorin bent down and picked up his tunic from where he had dropped it in his haste to catch her. When he raised the tunic to put it back on, Bilba surprised him.

“It’s OK if you want to leave it off. I’m sure you must be hot,” she told him.

Thorin hesitated, thinking over which option would make the hobbit more comfortable. She had made the offer but her voice had shook when she had done so.

Bilba cleared her throat. “The tattoo you have on your chest, don’t Fili and Kili have the same one in the same place?”

Thorin lowered his tunic, so she could see it once more. It was a hammer and anvil with a crowned helm above it. “Yes, it is the symbol for the Line of Durin. Balin, Dwalin, Oin, and Gloin have it as well. As descendants of Durin Dori, Nori, and Ori are entitled to it, but I do not believe they currently bear it.”

“I think Ori has one that looks like that, but it is on the inside of her left forearm.”

“That is the appropriate place for a female descendant to have it.”

“Why the different placement?”

“It is so the females do not have to bare themselves if there is the need to show they are of the Line of Durin.”

“Huh? Oh!” Bilba’s blush impossibly deepened.

“We males may be free with our nudity, but no female is ever asked or expected to expose herself in such a manner. Not even a husband has the right to demand his wife disrobe if she does not wish to do so. It is always the female’s choice on how much or how little of her skin is seen. Even a healer giving needed treatment will try their best to preserve her modesty.”

The hobbit nodded. “Why is yours silver and theirs black like a normal tattoo?”

“Mine is done in mithril. It is very rare, so it is usually used only for the heir’s tattoo. Fili’s should be mithril and Kili’s should be gold, but they chose to just have it done in normal ink. Perhaps after we retake Erebor they will have them redone in the appropriate metals.”

“Your nephews have been very vocal about their hopes of you having your own heir and giving them cousins,” Bilba smiled at him. “Maybe that is why they chose ink!”

On the roof the brothers nodded.

“Entirely possible, I suppose. Though, even if I did have a son, they would still be entitled to use gold.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Bilba asked, unconsciously rubbing that spot on her own chest.

Thorin shrugged, “A bit more than getting a regular tattoo.”

“What about the tattoo on your arm? Does it mean anything?”

Thorin turned so she could have a better view. He could not resist flexing a little. He told himself it was only because it would better display the tattoo and make it easier for him to explain its meaning. The tattoo began at the curve of his left shoulder and ended about mid bicep. He began his explanation starting at the top.

“The pommel of the sword is my personal seal. The sword itself is for my weapon of choice. My personal seal is also on my dwarven sword, ‘Deathless’, just above the cross guard and on both ends of the split pommel.”

Bilba thought it looked like a geometric four petal flower, but she didn’t say that out loud, though. She didn’t think Thorin would appreciate it.

The sword pointed downwards passing behind the top part of an almost ring shape with a downward curving cross guard just on the inside of the circle. It passed over the bottom of the circle thing and down into a sort of star.

“This circular figure is the symbol for a Mastery in Smithing.”

It looked kind of like a horseshoe bent into a circle with a thick wire bent along its edges.

“The spiked star means I am a trained warrior, and the gold outline means I have been educated to lead in battle.”

The star looked like a thick sharp wire twisted around the sword blade to form eight points, four large with a small point between each. All of it outlined in gold. The large point on the bottom actually took the place of the sword point.

“This here at the bottom represents the crown of the king, and means I am part of the direct line of succession.”

Bilba could see a dwarven crown in the sharp angles of the shape and it had a band that circled his bicep. She looked up at Thorin and could see such a crown resting on his head.

They stood like that for a few minutes before Bilba burst out, “Oh! I am keeping you from your work!”

“Yes, I should not step away from my station for long if I have not closed it down.”

“I should go and leave you to it, I guess.”

“Yes,” Thorin said. He did not really want to part from her, but he did need to get back to the repairs. Then he had an idea. “Have your explorations led you to the library yet?”

“There is a library?” Bilba asked, a little bit of awe in her voice. Then she laughed. “Silly me! Of course the elves would have a library! No, I have not come across it yet.”

“I should be done with the repairs by lunch. I could show you where it is located after that,” Thorin offered softly. “If you like,” he added a little awkwardly.

“I would like that very much, Thorin! Thank you!” Bilba clasped her hands and beamed up at him.

“You are welcome,” Thorin said fighting down a blush.

“Well then, I’d best be off so that you can get back to work! See you at lunch.”

Thorin nodded his head.

Neither noticed their spectators pull back into their hiding places.

Bilba turned to go and Thorin watched her until she was out of sight. Then he put his tunic back on. He really did need to get back to work if he wanted to be done on time.

The Forge Master noticed the change in Thorin’s demeanor. Before his short break with his hobbit companion, the Dwarf King’s expression had grown more grave the longer he worked. Now, he wore a small smile on his face. It was still there when Thorin left the smithy. The Forge Master made a note to himself to inform his Lord of that fact.

oOoOoOo

When Bilba turned a corner she entered a garden with a small fountain in the center. Knowing she was now out of Thorin’s sight, she stumbled over to the fountain and slumped down on its edge to give her knees a rest. Taking some deep breaths, she closed her eyes. She opened them in startelement when someone in front of her giggled.

There at the entrance to the garden stood Ori, Lady Arwen, and her companions.

“So?” smiled Ori. “What do you think of Thorin’s muscles?”

“Yes, you got a _very_ up close and personal view of them!” exclaimed Arwen.

Ori wasn’t sure, but she thought Bilba might have actually fainted. That or she had forgotten where she was sitting. Either way, she fell back into the fountain with a splash.

Ori and the three elves rushed forward as the hobbit came back up sputtering.

“Are you alright?” Arwen asked concerned.

“Yes. I think I might have needed that. At least I feel like I can think again! _Eru’s shiny beard!_ I think that may have been the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen! I can’t believe I was able to hold an intelligent conversation with him standing there like that!  Well, semi-intelligent anyways. I know I babbled a bit. I didn’t make a complete fool of myself. At least I don’t think I did. Miracle of miracles, he didn't say anything rude to ruin the view either! And I told him he didn’t have to put his tunic back on! I can’t believe I did that! Back in the Shire that alone would have destroyed my reputation as a respectable hobbit!” Bilba gasped bringing her hands up to her flaming cheeks.

Ori and Arwen giggled and smiled as their friend babbled on, all the while still sitting in the fountain.

“Do you want to see him like that again?” asked Arwen.

“Just imagine what he must look like naked!” said Ori.

Bilba surprised them by falling back into the water once more. When she came back up, she gasped, “Don’t say things like that! Now I am going to think it and he offered to show me to the library after lunch! Shame on you, by the way,” she said to Arwen, “for not telling me there is a library!”

“There is a library?” Ori asked in interest.

“Yes. Would you like to come with us after lunch?” Bilba offered turning to her dwarf friend.

Behind the hobbit’s back Arwen shook her head.

Ori did not have to pretend to be disappointed to decline. “I have some things to do with my brothers,” she lied.

“Oh, well, maybe later then. Oh, _bother!_ Now I need to go change into dry clothing.”

Ori and Arwen laughed and helped her climb out of the fountain.

oOoOoOo

Several others arrived at the dining hall the same time as Thorin. He had had a quick wash after finishing his repair work, and he wore clean clothes so he might be less offensive to Bilba.

Dori was giving the hobbit a confused look.

“That isn’t what you were wearing this morning,” he said. “Why did you change? Don’t tell me you took another bath!”

After it had been pointed out, Thorin did notice that, yes, Bilba had also changed her clothes.

“Not an intentional one,” Bilba muttered.

Ori sputtered trying to hold back a laugh.

“Oh, hush you! It was your fault! Yours and Arwen's,” the hobbit told her friend.

“What is the elf's fault?” Thorin demanded.

Bilba whipped around to look at him and blushed. "It's nothing! Really!" she tried to assure him.

"I insist on knowing of any slight towards the members of my company made by any of the elves," the King-in-Exile demanded.

"It wasn't really their fault, Thorin," appealed Bilba.

"Let me decide that," he told her.

Ori was still sputtering in an effort to keep from laughing. Bilba noticed that Nori too wore a funny smirk. That confused her for a moment before remembering that Ori had said her brothers tried to keep one of them with her at all times. Bilba narrowed her eyes at him and his smirk grew wider.

The King-in-Exile raised an eyebrow in notice.

_'Oh, bother! That must mean Nori had witnessed it too!'_ Bilba thought.

Maybe she could offer Nori a food bribe to keep his mouth shut about it. She'd have to find out what his favorites were. However, Bilba would need to tell Thorin something right now or he _would_ ask Nori and that would be even more embarrassing! It didn’t have to be _exactly_ how it had happened, just close enough. She certainly wasn’t going to tell the Dwarf King about _that_ conversation!

“Well,” she began. “I was in one of the gardens, not really paying attention too much and Ori and Arwen startled me and well… I fell into the fountain.”

“Twice,” choked out Ori.

“Oh, go ahead and laugh before you hurt yourself!” Bilba grumbled.

Ori could no longer contain her giggles. The others that were in earshot to hear the tale joined her.

Fili clapped Bilba on the shoulder. “There is must be something about the fountains here in Rivendell. We just can’t seem to stay out of them!”

An embarrassed Bilba made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "At least my swim was an accident!"

"You also seem to be easily startled today," Thorin said with a little half smile.

"Yes, well, of the two, being startled by you was more enjoyable. At least I didn't end up drenched!" Bilba covered her burning face with her hands.

Ori laughed even harder.

oOoOoOo

"I must speak with Balin about an important matter before we depart for the library. It should not take long," Thorin informed Bilba when he saw Balin get up to leave from lunch.

"Oh. Alright. I will be right here," she said and she plucked another roll from the basket and began to spread butter on it.

Sometimes Thorin was surprised at how much the smaller figure could eat. Her appetite seemed to be at least on par with a dwarf's. That was something his people could respect and it was one more thing that gave him hope that Bilba might feel comfortable making her home with them one day.

Of course, he had not yet discovered that Lord Elrond had ordered his kitchen to accommodate the hobbit's normal eating schedule as much as she desired and that she could likely out eat every member of his company, perhaps save Bombur.

Walking down the table Thorin placed a hand on Nori's shoulder as he passed before following after Balin. He hoped the thief understood that meant he wished to speak with him. The two elder dwarves only had to wait a few moments for Nori to catch up with them.

"What is it, laddie?" asked Balin.

"Nori, would you permit Balin to copy the book?"

"Suppose so. As long as I can be dere da 'ole time ‘n do spot checks when it’s done."

"Balin?" the King-in-Exile asked the counselor.

"Aye, I can do that."

"In that case, I would like two copies. I would prefer to have one done in time for the meeting tonight if possible."

"Are ye gonna tell da White Council 'bout dis?"

"I have not yet decided,” Thorin sighed, “but I will need to leave the information to be delivered to my mother and sister should we all perish."

"Yer not gonna just send it ta dem? What 'bout da letters ta Ered Luin ye mentioned?"

"You have never met the Princesses, have you?" Balin chuckled. "If Thorin sends the information you have told us, they _will_ look into it on their own, make no mistake about that."

"The other letters will be delivered, but I can not put my mother or sister in peril to investigate this. I will tell them some of what I have learned here so that they know to be on guard, but I will leave many of the specifics out. I intend to write a second letter with every detail that is only to be delivered should I perish."

"Right then. Let's get started, my lad," Balin said to Nori.

oOoOoOo

Thorin was glad the library was easy to locate. He was both pleased and jealous because of Bilba’s reaction to her first view of the its interior. Pleased that he had been the one to show her and jealous that it was over something elvish. He hoped the hobbit would react similarly when she saw Erebor.

Bilba could not contain her awe at the sight of so many books. She had never seen anywhere near so many!

“Oh, Thorin! This is… This is so amazing!” She didn’t realize in her enthusiasm that she had grabbed the arm of the dwarf next to her and given it a quick hug. “I could kiss you for showing me this,” she said releasing his arm and reverently walking further in.

_‘If only!’_ Thorin mentally sighed. He would take that kiss gladly!

Bilba looked up to the other levels and turned in place to take in the full extent of the books.

While she was distracted Thorin allowed himself to bask in the beauty of her awe.

They continued their individual admiration for a few more moments before Lindir came over and introduced himself to Bilba.

“Is there anything in particular you are interested in reading?” the elf asked her.

“Well, it will need to be something in Westron. My mother was teaching me Sindarin, but I am afraid I have gotten terribly rusty since her death.”

“We have many books in several languages, including Westron,” he assured her.

“Do you have any about dragons? Or the Misty Mountains and the lands east of them?”

Lindir’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the subjects she asked for, but he nodded.

Thorin fell in love with Bilba a little more for asking about topics that pertained to their quest first when given access to the knowledge of the elves.

“And you, Master Dwarf?” Lindir inquired. “Is there anything you wish to read?”

“I actually have some correspondence to write. Could I trouble you for the necessary supplies?”

The elf scholar nodded and waved his hand to a small table that held what he needed.

Bilba beamed at him for his politeness.

Thorin stomped over to the table Lindir had pointed out in order to hide his reaction.

Lindir returned to them with three books. Thanking him, she quickly glance through the contents. She saw that he had brought not only a book about the topics she had asked about, but also one about learning Sindarin!

The two spent much of the afternoon in the library. He writing his letters and she reading through the book about dragons.

After finishing his last letter, Thorin folded them all up and put them in the pocket on the inside of his velvet outer tunic. He would seal them all with wax and a press his of his blue jeweled ring when he returned to their suite.

For a few minutes Thorin allowed himself to sit and admire the sight before him. Bilba reclined on the couch across from the table at which he sat, attention intently focused on the book in her hands. There was a little crease of concentration between her eyebrows.

An elf Thorin did not recognize interrupted his gazing by putting a covered tray on the table between them. “Your afternoon tea, Mistress Hobbit,” she said, prompting Bilba to look up.

“Thank you very much,” she told the elf.

“Afternoon tea?” inquired the Dwarf King.

“Lord Elrond has been a most gracious host. Someone usually comes to find me for elevenses and afternoon tea.”

When Bilba removed the cover from the tray he was surprised to see that the large teapot and two cups were accompanied by a couple large plates of sandwiches and cakes. Then Thorin remembered what she had said of hobbit eating habits as they had left Bree.

“Have you been eating _all seven_ of your normal meals while we have been in Rivendell?!”

Bilba poured two cups and handed one to him. A distant part of him noticed that she had fixed it how he normally took his tea.

“No, just five. I have usually been skipping second breakfast and the late evening snack,” she informed him.

Bilba was eating two meals in addition to the three large ones she ate with the company! How was she not as large as Bombur? Another thought gave him pause.

“Are we starving you on the road?” he asked in concern.

“No, not really," Bilba sighed. "It's less than I'm used to, sure. Hobbits love food, but we eat for enjoyment more than for necessity.” Seeing he did not look convinced she continued, “Hmm... Dwarves love gold, do they not?”

He nodded.

“And just because you may have some that wouldn’t stop you from obtaining more would it?”

“No.”

“Then just trade dwarf for hobbit and gold for food in that thought. No hobbit will turn down food and we are capable of eating far more than is necessary for survival, so stop worrying!”

Thorin nodded, but made a note to keep a watchful eye on her while on the road.

“Are you finding your book informative?” the King-in-Exile asked changing the subject.

“Terrifyingly so. The book with information on dragons is actually about all the fel things that served the Dark Lord Morgoth in the First Age. I hope I don’t wake poor Ori with my nightmares, especially since a number of the entries claim their topics still exist in this Age!”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Obviously there are dragons, orcs, wargs, and trolls, but also giants, giant bats, ogres, great spiders, werewolves, balrogs, and cold-drakes. And then there are the unnamed creatures he corrupted, so there could be who knows what, who knows where!”

“It is true there are many foul creatures in the world. We will be cautious,” Thorin assured her.

They were able to empty the tea tray of its food. Only a small portion was consumed by the dwarf.

oOoOoOo

In Valinor the Valar watched things between Bilba Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield unfold.

“He will have much work to do to save his kind if they succeed, and Bilba would be a great help if Thorin can win her heart,” spoke Manwe, Lord of the Breath of Arda.

“Provided Olorin does not rush them, these two could provide us entertainment for years!” said Varda, Lady of the Stars.

“They can be so adorably awkward with each other!” smiled Vana, the Ever-young.

Yavanna, Giver of Fruits, took her husband’s hand and brought it up to kiss his knuckles. “I hope this will save your children, My Love,” she said softly.

“Yes. It would be fitting for one of your children to save the entire race of mine. You made her well, Queen of My Heart. I thank you.” Bringing his wife’s hand up to his mouth, Aule, the Smith, returned the gesture. “I am glad that Thorin Oakenshield is now learning there is a threat, even if he does not yet know how far it spreads.”

Yavanna squeezed her husband’s hand in support.

Though she feared what the dwarves would do to her creations if left unchecked, she did not want her husband to have to see the end of his children as she had seen the end of the ent-wives. To that end, over the last several generations she had influenced her own fertile children to produce one that had the potential to save them. She was grateful for Olorin’s assistance (meddling) in bringing not only Gerontius Took and Adamanta Chubb together but also giving Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took the nudge they had needed. However, it was now up to the Dwarf King to win Bilba over. If the Line of Durin did not continue through Thorin Oakenshield and Bilba Baggins it would not be long before all of Aule’s children were gone.

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! Aule, Yavanna, and the other Valar are total shippers! For those of you who don't know Olorin = Gandalf.


	18. Yep! Still in Rivendell!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company is never going to get out of Rivendell at this rate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> {...} elvish  
> [...] Khuzdul  
> /…\ Iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
> These last two chapters are _later_ than they would have been if I hadn’t watched BBC’s North and South starring Richard Armitage for the first time. It has been on my To Watch list for awhile but learning RA was the lead male moved it up on the list.
> 
> These last two chapters have been posted _earlier_ than they would have been if there wasn’t such a shortage of fics for that fandom, though I am still working my way through them.
> 
> Seriously, if you like stuff like Pride & Prejudice or just like RA go watch it! RA does lots of Smoldering! The edited [shortened for commercials I would guess :( ] US version is on Netflix right now. I bought the DVD and book after watching it once.
> 
> I have also posted a slightly extended scene of the dinner the first night in Rivendell in response to a reader’s comment. And I have done some editing to earlier chapters, mostly to fix errors and formatting.
> 
> A big thank you again to Wolveyaon for reading through this. Mistakes are all still mine.

oOoOoOo

After leaving the library Thorin saw Bilba to their rooms before going off in search of Balin and Nori.

Ori and Arwen practically pounced on the hobbit and dragged her into the garden. Dori, of course, followed.

“So?” asked Ori.

“Oh, Ori! It was wonderful! I have never seen so many books! I don’t think there are even half that many books in the Shire!” Bilba said and proceeded to describe it to her fascinated dwarf friend.

Arwen was surprised by how much she wanted to cover her face with her hand. It seemed getting Bilba and Thorin Oakenshield together was going to take more work than she had thought!

“How did it go with Thorin?” the elf asked.

“Fine,” Bilba shrugged.

Arwen resisted the urge to sigh. “What did the two of you do? Did you talk about anything?”

“I glanced through theses books,” Bilba said holding up the books Lindir had chosen for her. “Thorin wrote his letters, then he asked me about what I was reading, and we shared afternoon tea.”

“Sounds like it was an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon,” voiced Dori.

“Oh, yes! It was lovely!” Bilba confirmed. Looking thoughtful she continued, “I would like to do something nice for Thorin for taking the time to show me the library and making the effort to behave. He didn’t say anything rude and he was even polite to the elf there in the library! I may need some assistance to accomplish what I would like to do though.”

“What did you have in mind?” asked Arwen.

A mischievous smile bloomed on the hobbit’s face. When she shared her idea matching grins grew on the faces of the two dwarves.

“I think we can arrange that,” Arwen smiled too.

oOoOoOo

“How goes the transcribing?” Thorin asked when he found the subjects of his search. Balin was still scratching away, a small stack of parchment next to him. Nori leaned against a nearby railing picking his nails with a small knife.

“I’m nearly done with the first copy,” Balin informed him. “Not all of it is sorted by date. It looks like after Vori was killed Nori’s mentor started looking into jobs other agents had done that he had not been involved in. Not all are murders though. Some are lesser crimes like documents being replaced by forgeries or just stolen outright, though the latter seems to have been done so rarely. Also, there is apparently at least one dwarf in the mines that is responsible for skimming off some of the gems found,” the white haired dwarf rolled his eyes.

“Of course there is,” Thorin said exchanging an exasperated look with Balin. Missing gems were the least surprising crime of those mentioned. In fact, he would have been more surprised if there was _not_ someone that was a part of this conspiracy involved such an infraction. Would that a jewel thief was all that they were dealing with! “What documents are involved?” he inquired.

“Not all of the entries are that specific I'm afraid," Balin sighed. "Some are just a date, the location it was taken from and maybe a brief description whether it was book, scroll, or packet.”

“And the entries that are that specific?” the King-in-Exile probed.

Balin shook his head. “They range from contracts and official government documents to inventories and archived correspondence of the royal house and council. The unnamed documents could be anything.”

“So, all our records in Ered Luin could be compromised.”

“Aye.”

“Is there any indication as to what happened to the original documents?”

Balin and Nori both shook their heads.

“Unless dere is a hidden cache somewhere, dey were probably destroyed,” speculated the thief.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Thorin said sarcastically.

Laying down his quill for a quick break the white haired dwarf sighed. “I recognize more than a few names listed here, laddie,” he said.

“Have you noticed anything that stands out?” Thorin inquired.

Balin hesitated for a few moments before answering, “There are more females listed than I would have suspected there to be in proportion to the population. More than a third for sure, but not enough to be half I think.”

Thorin’s gaze shifted swiftly to the thief for confirmation.

“Aye. Dat sounds ‘bout right,” Nori nodded sadly.

Thorin let out a string of profanity.

Nori raised his eyebrows. He was surprised to hear the regal King-in-Exile do something as common as use swear words from the language of Men. The thief’s respect for Thorin actually grew because of it. In less serious circumstances he would have smiled when Thorin then apologized for using them.

“I’d say dat is a fit sketch o’ dis mess if e’er dere was one,” Nori told him. “Now ye see why I was none too keen on leavin’ me sister in da mountain?”

“ _Mahal’s hammer and anvil!_ As if our women were not too few to begin with!” Thorin was furious. He stomped back and forth in front of the table Balin was working at before a horrible new thought made him halt in place.

“Thorin? What is it?” the white haired dwarf asked, concerned at the abrupt change.

The King-in-Exile turned slowly to face his councilor. “Were any of those listed dwarflings?” he asked in quiet horror.

If a dwarfling was listed in that book Balin was very likely to spot it. Considering how precious their young were to his people, every effort to protect them was taken. Unfortunately though, there were always those that were lost to a very rare sickness or accident. Any dwarf who perished before achieving Adulthood or Mahal forbid Battle Readiness, no matter their station, was reported to king and council and mourned. It was the report Thorin most dreaded hearing at the council meetings.

“No,” Balin was relieved to be able to inform him. “Whomever is behind this does not seem to have crossed that line at least.”

Thorin let out a relieved sigh and nodded. “What about the names you recognize? Can you see any pattern in them?”

Balin shook his head. “There are members of all three clans. There are some Longbeards that I know were descendants of Durin, and some I do not know if they were or not. I can’t say for the Firebeards or Broadbeams. I am not very familiar with their lineage. If the two of you don’t mind, I would like to make a third copy that is sorted by date. Maybe a pattern will show itself that way.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow at Nori.

“Fine by me,” the thief shrugged.

“Do it,” Thorin nodded.

oOoOoOo

Dinner was coming to a close when the serving elves came in carrying several covered platters.

“Ah, I was informed there was something special tonight. I believe it is because of you, Thorin Oakenshield,” Lord Elrond told him.

The Dwarf King watched the serving elves with undisguised suspicion. The platters were being spread amongst the tables for sharing, except for one. That was brought directly to Thorin. He did not know of any special occasion that would merit him extra attention.

“Spare me from paranoid dwarves,” the halfling next to him muttered.

When the platter was placed before him and the cover removed Thorin saw some familiar looking blackberry tarts. Surprised he turned to the grinning hobbit next to him and gave her a questioning look.

“For showing me the library,” Bilba explained. “That was very thoughtful of you to take the time to do so.”

Thorin fought down a blush.

“You did this just because he showed you the library?!” Kili blurted.

“Yes,” Bilba confirmed. “Now he gets that entire platter to himself and he doesn’t have to share!”

Smirking, Thorin pulled said platter towards himself and started in on the tarts.

“If I show you the library in Erebor will you make me that chocolate cake you had that night at your home?” shouted the youngest Durin.

“You don’t even know where the library in Erebor is!” exclaimed his brother.

“Sometimes I wonder if he knows where the library in _Ered Luin_ is,” Thorin leaned down and whispered in Bilba’s ear.

“Kili does seem to be more of a ‘doer’ than a ‘thinker’,” Bilba smiled up at him.

 _“That_ is certainly true!” Thorin sighed, and then Kili called the hobbit’s attention back.

“So, if I _do_ show you the library will you make me that chocolate cake?”

“He is very insistent on an answer. Is it chocolate cake he loves, or chocolate in general?” she softly asked Thorin.

“Chocolate in general,” he answered before shoving another tart in his mouth.

“So, will you? Please?!” the young archer begged.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be a library,” Bilba said. “I’ll make all of you a deal. If each of you can keep from abusing and/or destroying any more of our hosts’ possessions for the rest of our stay here in Rivendell I will make you each a dish of your choice at the next opportunity.”

The dwarves cheered, the elves looked relieved, and Elrond and Gandalf hid their smiles behind their wine glasses.

“Creative,” Elrond told her. “These are very good by the way,” he said, lifting the tart he had taken from other platter that had been brought to the head table for the other occupants to share.

“My mother called it positive reinforcement for good behavior!” laughed Bilba. “And thank you!”

“Would it be wrong of me to hope you have much cooking to do in your future?” the Elf Lord asked.

“Not at all,” Bilba assured the elf. “I enjoy cooking, even more so for grateful recipients!”

oOoOoOo

After listening to Lord Elrond read the map, Thorin and Gandalf went with the Elf Lord to meet with the rest of the White Council while Balin and Bilba returned to their suite. There she found Fili and Kili sitting at a table staring forlornly at pieces of parchment.

“What is the matter?” she asked the brothers.

“We are supposed to write letters to our mother and grandmother,” Fili said.

“But we have no idea what to write,” said Kili.

“Hmm,” Bilba said. “How about something like this:

Dear Mother/Grandmother,

I am _not dead._ My brother is _not dead_ . Thorin is _not dead._ In fact, every member of the company is _not dead._ I promise to do my best to keep it that way.

I’ve seen/done/tried something new or interesting. I’ve met new people.

I love you. I miss you. Once again, I promise to do my best to keep myself and all the members of the company _not dead._

Your loving son/grandson,

your name.”

The dwarves in earshot chuckled as she went on. Kili was slapping the table in his laughter.

“So, what you are saying is that what they really want to know is that we are not dead,” grinned Fili.

Rocking back and forth on her feet, Bilba smiled and nodded.

“I am going to write that word for word!” Kili told the hobbit when he could contain his laughter enough to speak.

“Me too!” laughed Bofur.

“You might want to add some actual information or they will think you are hiding something bad from them, like a lost limb or something,” she counseled. “Would it be alright if I wrote to them as well?”

Fili exchanged wide grins with his brother.

“I’m sure they would like that,” Fili smiled at the hobbit. _‘A letter from Thorin’s One? They’d_ love _it!’_ he thought.

The blond knew Bilba had to be Uncle’s One. He had never seen Thorin act like that around anyone else! Uncle was usually so confident. It was so adorable to see him get a little flustered by the shapely halfling. Not that he’d ever say that anywhere that his uncle might hear. Fili might be reckless, but he wasn’t stupid!

“Good. I would not want to cause offense. Now, what would be the proper way for me to address them?” Bilba asked taking a seat at the table and pulling a piece of parchment in front of herself.

oOoOoOo


	19. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, kudos, and follows! Thank you to clovergirl, Mefrancene, Brandi, LovesDragons, and a guest for their reviews since I can’t reply to you in a PM.
> 
> To LovesDragons: “Why so many women? Like Thorin so explicitly points out, there aren't many.” - That will be explained eventually. Probably in the next story arc. There should end up being three maybe four arcs: the Hobbit, the time between, LotR, and maybe the aftermath. There will probably be some one shots of scenes that happen in this universe but don’t really have a place in the main stories. As for the mystery dwarves at the end of chapter 15, their identities will be revealed towards the end of the Hobbit arc.
> 
> A big thank you again to Wolveyaon for reading through most of this. Mistakes are all mine, especially since I’ve expanded it here and there since she read through it.

oOoOoOo

“What have you learned from the map?” asked Cirdan.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun, with the last light of Durin's Day, will shine upon the keyhole," Elrond informed the rest of the White Council.

“Durin’s Day is the start of the Dwarves’ New Year when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together, but it surpasses our skill these days to tell when exactly that is,” Thorin explained.

Lindir entered the pavilion carrying several books and scroll cases and bowed.

“Excellent timing,” Elrond told the scholar. “These,” he informed the others, “should hopefully help us discover when Durin’s Day will occur.”

After nearly two hours of studying the books and charts Lindir had delivered, they all agreed that Durin’s Day should occur on October 21st in the current year.

“That does not leave much time,” Cirdan warned. “I can not relay any detailed plans to my steward from this distance. I will have to ride out for several weeks to do so. Even then my people will be hard pressed to make it to Dol Guldur in time to join in the coordinated assault.”

“Send for them anyways. We may need the reinforcements,” Elrond advised.

“Are you marshaling armies?” inquired Thorin. “We do not even know what you will face in Dol Guldur.”

“Should it only be Sauron in the old fortress I would not object to having an army at my back,” Elrond said.

“I should be able to muster a thousand warriors on such short notice,” Cirdan offered.

“I can do the same,” said the Lord of Rivendell.

Galadriel nodded, “Three-thousand warriors along with whatever number Thranduil can be persuaded to send. Let us hope it is enough.”

“Oh, so no pressure,” Glorfindel said a little sarcastically as the task of convincing the Woodland King fell to him.

“Do you think it likely that Thranduil will send aid?” Thorin asked, sneering the Elf King’s name.

Galadriel and Elrond exchanged glances.

“It is difficult to say. He could decide either way,” answered Elrond.

“Sauron is a dangerous threat to dismiss, but Thranduil lost his father in the last war against the Dark Lord. His bitterness over his father’s death is one of the reasons he is so resistant to helping beyond his own borders,” enlightened the Lady of Lorien.

“How _are_ we going to find out what we are up against?” asked Cirdan.

“The riddle of the Morgul blade must be answered,” said Galadriel. “Angmar’s tomb should be investigated so we can be certain it is his blade Radagast found.”

Gandalf nodded, “I think it would be best if Radagast and I did that. I can see Glorfindel and Thorin and his company through the mountains before setting off for the tomb.”

“And what about Dol Guldur? Or are we going to go in blind?” inquired Glorfindel.

“Radagast said the old fortress looks abandoned. That means it is covered with concealment spells and Sauron is not yet ready to reveal himself. I will enter first alone to investigate and work on taking the spells down.”

“I do not like the idea of you going in alone, Mithrandir,” objected the Lady. The other elves nodded in agreement.

“It is the best option. I can inform you, my Lady, of what I find and you can communicate with the rest of them,” he said gesturing to the three other elves, “so the attack can be coordinated.”

Looking down at one of his boots Elrond spoke, “I am hesitant to admit it, but I think Mithrandir is correct.”

The others looked at one another before reluctantly nodding their heads.

While the elves discussed travel plans and possible battle strategies Thorin stood from his seat and walked towards the edge of the pavilion while he tried to decide what, if anything, to tell this group about Nori’s tale. He kept one ear on their planning so he was not completely startled when Elrond’s volume rose.

“You want to take _my daughter_ to Isengard?!” the Elf Lord exclaimed.

“We do not wish to tip off Saruman,” Galadriel said. “I have to act as if nothing has changed. The Gap of Rohan is the safest path. He knows I came here to get my granddaughter. Taking Arwen any other way would be suspicious.”

“But you would actually be taking her _to_ Isengard! Saurman will be expecting you to stop there again on the return journey!” he objected.

“Have they ever met? Saruman and your daughter?” Thorin asked.

The elves and wizard shifted their attention to him in confusion.

“What relevance would that have?” Elrond asked.

“Have. They. Met?” the Dwarf King asked, turning to face them.

The elves looked at one another.

“Saruman is not much for socializing and he _does_ always eat in in his room when he comes here,” Glorfindel said.

“To the best of my knowledge, they have not met,” Elrond answered.

“Then you can use a decoy,” Thorin said. “One of your female warriors, someone of similar appearance, poses as your daughter and accompanies Lady Galadriel and her party on the path past Isengard as expected, perhaps joined by some of your own warriors. You can send you daughter on another path or give Isengard a wider berth through the Gap if she still must go. If it turns out Saruman is not against us or he finds out somehow about the deception I am sure the wizard would understand your being concerned for your daughter’s safety while she travels.”

Elrond looked at the Dwarf Lord, considering the suggestion. “That may work. One of Arwen’s handmaidens could pass for her perhaps.”

Cirdan chuckled, “I get the feeling we have met more females of your kind than we had believed.”

Thorin kept his expression neutral. He was not going to confirm that that supposition was probably true. Their women may often wear dresses or more feminine clothing inside the mountain, but the women folk that did travel usually made great effort to appear like their male counterparts for safety.

The elves and wizard continued their planning, so Thorin returned to his contemplation.

Would not the White Council be interested to hear of a possible threat to a people they want as allies? Would that not be pertinent to what they are trying to do and therefore try to help?

“You are thinking very loudly, Thorin Oakenshield. Is there anything you wish to share?” Lady Galadriel asked.

Thorin turned again to face the White Council.

It came back to trust. He was still unsure how much he could rely on the aid of the elves, and years of bitterness said not to, but every other instinct he had learned to listen to over the years said yes.

Then he heard Bilba’s words in his head.

_‘Do you not serve your people in your capacity as king? Don't you do things that are for their betterment that you would rather not do?_

_Just remember, you do not have to like the elves for them to be allies or even gain aid from them. Not everyone is out to get you. Not everyone wishes dwarves ill will.’_

He would have to take the chance. For the sake of his people he had to risk trusting the elves before him.

“Perhaps you heard that after the Battle of Azanulbizar there was some confusion over the lines of succession for the Broadbeam and Firebeard clans?” he began.

The elves nodded.

“I thought that had been handled. How fortunate it turned out to be experienced members of your council, yes?” Gandalf said slyly.

“It has been resolved for the most part, but Torvald and Gunnarr are not the heads of their clans. I am,” Thorin announce.

“Really?” It was gratifying to see Tharkun’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Yes. I have not claimed the positions publicly. I intend to do so after we retake Erebor.”

“Why are you telling us this now?” Elrond questioned.

“Though I am very closely related to the direct lines of both houses, I am not officially a part of either. That is where some of the confusion sprang from. To best of my knowledge no one outside a clan has ever claimed the head position before. Because of this their clan scholars spent two years researching their royal lines. I was the only living heir they could identify.”

“That is very odd,” voiced Elrond.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded, “but there is more. Most of the various branches had died out in the seventy-five years or so prior to the battle. With all the losses we had sustained, I admit I did not find it suspicious at the time.”

“But not any more,” said Galadriel. “Why?”

“A member of my company has come to me with information about a figure called the Death Weaver that seemed to become active around the time the lines started dying out. This figure apparently arranges for, among other things, murders. Murders that look like accidents. When I asked about two names I knew, two who had been the last of their branch and died at different times, I was informed both do appear on the list. It is not conclusive evidence, however other names that appear on the list are from the line of Durin or married into it. There has also apparently been an unsuccessful attempt on Dwalin’s life as well.”

“This is alarming!” exclaimed Cirdan.

“Who would want to do this and why?” asked Glorfindel.

“Dwarves can beat remarkable odds when rallying to their leader,” stated Gandalf.

“From the tales I have heard of the Battle of Azanulbizar, the tide of battle turned forcefully against the dwarves when Thror fell and did not turn in their favor until after Master Oakenshield faced off against the orc leader,” mentioned Cirdan, gesturing to the dwarf.

Thorin nodded.

“Just so,” the wizard affirmed.

“Then, losing your leaders could cripple your race’s effectiveness, especially in matters of war,” Glorfindel said.

“Someone killing off the royal houses of the dwarf clans could have further reaching effects than just for the dwarves,” Elrond disclosed. “It is true our alliance is not what it once was, yet if the Dwarves were to be _unable_ to join in the fight against a foe like Sauron, I fear that would bode ill for all the Free Peoples. If it does come to open warfare, we will need all the allies we can obtain and for all our differences I will acknowledge the dwarves are fierce warriors.”

The Elf Lord and Dwarf King exchanged small nods of respect.

“Perhaps someone knows war is coming and wishes to weaken the Dwarves so that they can not fight,” Glorfindel theorized.

“If someone _is_ killing off the royal lines, they will come for you eventually,” Cirdan counseled Thorin.

“Perhaps they already are,” speculated Tharkun. “Does the Death Weaver threat come from within the mountain or without?” asked the wizard.

“The information we have says within. At the very least there is one dwarf arranging it. I do not know if he is working with anyone outside Ered Luin.”

“I wonder if this has any connection to the promise of payment for your head I intercepted or might you have two separate plots for your blood. I suspect that missive has something to do with the orcs that were hunting us,” said Gandalf. “Azog did vow to end the Line of Durin.”

“But Azog is dead,” objected Thorin.

Gandalf and Galadriel exchanged a look.

“What now?” Thorin demanded.

“Our scouting intelligence says that the leader of the forces in Moria is still a pale orc that rides a white warg,” Galadriel said.

“No,” Thorin denied.

“A pale orc missing the bottom half of his left arm,” the Elf Lady continued.

“It can not be!” he gasped.

“I am afraid Azog _is_ still alive,” Gandalf confirmed.

“Is there any _more_ bad news you are keeping from me?!” pressed Thorin, his breathing heavy.

“Nothing else comes to mind,” the wizard shrugged.

Thorin narrowed his eyes and growled (mostly) to himself. Sometimes, _often_ really, he wished he could punch the wizard’s long nose. Dismissing the unwise wish for the time being, he turned to Elrond and pulled a bundle of papers from his outer tunic.

“This packet contains everything I have learned so far regarding the threat to my people. I would ask you to keep it for now. If I should perish, and _only_ if I should perish, send it on to my mother and sister in Ered Luin. It will be dangerous to investigate this and I do not wish to put them in danger if I do not have to.”

“Why the delay?” Glorfindel asked. “Surely no one would seek to cause harm to two dwarrowdam, especially those of the royal house!”

“Being female will not protect them in this instance. In regards to population, a disproportionately large number of dwarrowdams have already become the Death Weaver’s victims,” Thorin declared. He was surprised that the elf knew the proper term for a female dwarf. He had never heard it used by anyone _but_ a dwarf before and even that was uncommon outside the mountain these days.

Elrond took the packet and nodded, “It shall be done as you ask.”

“There is one other thing,” Thorin said. “I need to inform Dwalin of all that I have learned here, both from you and from my own people.”

“You believe he can handle the information appropriately?” Elrond asked.

“Yes. If it comes to war he will be one of my generals, and investigating the Death Weaver falls under the purview of his duties as a captain of the guard. He needs to know what is going on.”

“Then tell him,” Galadriel gave her consent.

oOoOoOo

When the meeting ended Glorfindel was the first to depart.

“Does the elf have to travel with us?” Thorin groused after the blonde had gone. He was not whining. He was _not!_

“We are traveling in the same direction,” Gandalf said. “Who knows? He may be able to prevent Thranduil from interfering with your journey through his realm. Why does that alarm you so?”

“He seems to me to be a dangerous influence to have around my nephews,” Thorin grumbled.

The remaining members of the White Council laughed.

“You are probably correct, but Glorfindel is not the worst influence Fili and Kili could find in Rivendell,” Gandalf told him.

“That honor would go to my twin sons,” Elrond sighed. “Consider yourself warned.”

Twins. Yes. Those always seemed to be trouble.

oOoOoOo

Bilba was amused by Fili’s and Kili’s unique letter writing ritual. Each brother would write for a time on their own parchment and then they would switch them and the other would add their own thoughts, or comment on what the other had written. There would only be one letter each to their mother and grandmother from the two of them, but each brother had an opportunity to pen their own portions.

Such a practice might have seemed lazy if done by another pair, but when they explained it to the hobbit she thought it fit the two brother’s perfectly. They were so close that you rarely saw one without the other, and you certainly would have a hard time holding a conversation with one without the other participating! Their letters would actually feel _more_ personal this way, not less.

Just after the young descendants of Durin finished writing their letters two identical looking elves made an appearance at the entrance to their rooms.

All the present dwarves were immediately on their feet and between the elves and their female companions. Bilba rolled her eyes and huffed, but she was at least glad to see that none of the dwarves had drawn their weapons, even if they were not far from them.

“Elladan,” said one elf.

“And Elrohir,” said the other.

“At your service,” they both bowed.

Bilba grinned as she had a flashback to meeting a certain pair of young brothers back at Bag End.

“We wish to make the acquaintance of the hobbit our sister speaks so fondly of,” one of the elves continued.

“Oh!” Bilba exclaimed. “You are Arwen’s brothers! Come in! Come in!” she waved to them.

Some of the dwarves turned to her and frowned before turning their scowls back on the elves, but didn’t stop them from joining the hobbit at the table.

Elladan and Elrohir sat and chatted happily with Bilba for some time.

Seeing that the elves weren’t doing anything beyond talking, a few of the dwarves pulled out their instruments and began playing a merry tune.

That was when Fili and Kili started picking up tea dishes from around the room. At least it started with just the two brothers. It quickly turned into a repeat performance of what she had seen done with her own dishes.

The two elves laughed and clapped at the entertainment, but Bilba’s reaction was quite different.

“Stop that! Put that down! Put that down! Oh, don’t do that!” she said pulling on the ends of her hair.

The two elves and the dwarves just laughed, amused at the hobbit’s fussiness.

“You apparently don’t want that chocolate cake,” she told Kili.

“But we aren’t hurting anything!” the young archer objected.

“This! This is exactly what I meant by abusing our host’s possessions! You are deliberately doing something that may damage the elves’ things!”

“We won’t drop them!” Fili assured her.

“You can not guarantee that! This will be your only warning,” Bilba said shaking her finger at them. “If you want to juggle something, juggle your own things!”

They complied by just carrying the rest of the dishes over to the tea tray.

Bilba, of course, did not realize just how dangerous the directive she had given them could be!

oOoOoOo

When Thorin and Gandalf returned to their suite after the meeting it was to the sight of Fili and Kili putting on an impressive display of deft juggling with knives (and an elf blade or two) assisted by Elrond’s twin sons.

To the side Thorin could see a very nervous Bilba shifting back and forth on her feet, looking like she was expecting every toss to end with blood.

The King-in-Exile, however, was more concerned with the company than the objects in the air, especially after the warning he’d just received from their host.

 _‘They have met, dammit,’_ he swore mentally. Fili and Kili did not need any encouragement to act out!

Spotting him, the hobbit hurried over to Thorin’s side.

“Can’t you do something?” she asked.

“As long as they make sure that they are the only ones that are injured should something go wrong it is their prerogative,” Thorin sighed.

“What?!”

“They are unlikely to hurt themselves. Both dwarves and elves are physically very dexterous,” Gandalf assured her.

“But-”

“Be grateful they aren’t juggling full swords and axes!” Gandalf chuckled. He pat the hobbit on the shoulder then took a seat to watch the show.

“So, this is normal?” Bilba asked keeping a cautious eye on the performers.

“Normal enough,” Thorin shrugged.

“I guess this would go under the cultural differences category then?”

“Yes, I suppose so. Think of it as practice. Sometimes in battle it is necessary to throw weapons either to an ally or at an enemy. In both instance you must be cautious. You do not wish to give your enemy another weapon to use against you any more than you want to injure your ally.”

“Oh,” Bilba said.

That was the end of her fussing, but a half smile crossed his face as Thorin saw she still watched the flying daggers nervously.

When Nori appeared from wherever he had been off to (more eavesdropping the King suspected), the thief quickly joined in and added his own knives to the mix.

Bilba would admit she was relieved when some time later it appeared the five jugglers were winding down the show. One by one, the owners of each blade began to sheath them as each was caught by the appropriate hand. Most turned out to be Fili’s.

oOoOoOo


	20. A Night of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> {...} elvish  
> [...] Khuzdul  
> /…\ Iglishmek  
> ((…)) telepathy
> 
> xXx (Pairing) xXx - the naughty stuff (explicit) The clean(er) version is on fan fiction . net. 
> 
> This chapter involves intimate relations between consenting adults. The explicit material is all f/m, but other types of pairings will be mentioned later in the story. I may write one-shots for other pairings if there is interest.
> 
> Don’t like a paring? Skip it. If anything important plot wise happens in those scenes I will put a note at the end.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! To LovesDragons: Fili & Kili, Elladan & Elrohir, AND Merry & Pippin! :D It will be a long time until we get there though.
> 
> You all should thank Miss Jackson Grayson-Barton on ff . net. It is only because I told her was going to try to get this up today that I did. I almost said f**k it for today after facetiming with my sisters as one of the family cats was put to sleep (leukemia probably).
> 
> Thanks to Wolveyaon for reading through both versions. All mistakes are still mine.

oOoOoOo

Ori wasn’t sure what woke her up shortly before dawn. Lighting a candle she looked around the room. That is when she heard the quiet whimper come from the other side of the bed. When a moan soon followed she decided to wake her hobbit friend.

“Bilba. Bilba!” Ori shook her.

Bilba gasped upon waking and turned to the scribe.

“Are you alright?” Ori asked. “You were making noises in your sleep.”

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

The dwarf shrugged. “Were you having a nightmare?”

To her astonishment Bilba blushed deep enough to be seen in the candlelight.

“Oooooh! It was one of _those_ dreams!” Ori grinned. “Wanna share?”

“ _Those_ dreams? What do you mean?” a confused Bilba asked.

“The dreams about sex.”

“I-I…” Bilba stammered. “Are those kinds of dreams… n-normal?” Bilba timidly asked.

“Absolutely!” Ori assured her. “Would you like me to share one of mine?”

“You dream of Dwalin like that?”

“Oh, yes! So?”

“Ok. If... if you want to,” Bilba flushed.

 

xXx Dwalin/Ori Start xXx

 

Ori was tasked with delivering some reports to Dwalin in his office in the main guard house. He wasn’t there when she went in to drop them off, but as soon as she placed the packet on his desk she heard the door shut and the lock click into place.

“I was just delivering some reports from your brother,” Ori breathed.

“Is that _all_ you are here for?” Dwalin asked, his voice husky, as he pressed himself to her back and slipped one arm low around her stomach.

Ori’s closed her eyes in pleasure. She could tell he was bare chested from a training session. “Are you trying to waylay me from my duties, sir?” she bantered.

“Yes,” he whispered in her ear.

And in dream fashion, their remaining clothes melted away. The hand that was on her stomach began to move. He rubbed circles on her belly and hip, then down her thigh and back up. His other hand cupped one of her small breasts, massaging it for a moment before rolling the nipple between his fingers.

Ori gasped and arched her chest into his touch.

Dwalin alternated his hands between caressing her belly and thighs and playing with her nipples. Meanwhile, he stroked his hardening cock against her back.

Ori reached her arms back around him and clasped the large muscles of his butt to encourage his thrusting. All the while he rained kisses, licks, and little nips down her neck and shoulders.

“Dwalin! Please!” she begged.

A low chuckle sounded in her ear. Using his larger mass he leaned them both over his desk. The hand that had been on her breast moved to position himself. The other spread across her lower belly and held her there as he slowly but firmly pressed inside.

They both moaned when Dwalin was fully seated. He held himself still for a few moments before beginning to move. It started out small. At first he only pulled out a short way, but each time he moved back he pulled out a little more until he was pulling almost all the way out before pushing fully in again.

Dwalin took her hands off his backside and, still holding them, rested both of their forearms together on the desk, his larger body draped over hers. She loved the feel of his muscles pressed up against her with his strong arms framing her body. With their arms now providing support he started to increase the pace and force of his thrusts.

Ori, overcome with pleasure, began to shake in his arms and did her best to thrust back onto her lover as he thrust forward.

Now pounding into her, Dwalin let go with one hand stroked it down to the juncture of her thighs and started to rub circles over her clit. “I want you to cum around me,” he rasped in her ear.

And Ori did.

 

xXx Dwalin/Ori End xXx

 

“That is when I woke up,” Ori sighed in pleasure.

“You’ve... had sex?”

“Well, no,” Ori admitted.

“How do you know so much about it then?”

“We have sex education classes that teach the mechanics, and there are erotic books that describe characters intimate relations explicitly.”

“There _are_ books like that?!”

“Of course there are. I’d wager the elves have some, too. I’m sure they would you let you read some if you asked.”

“I couldn’t ask Lindir for anything like _that!”_

“Suit yourself,” Ori shrugged. “I hear,” she blushed, “there are some couples back in Thorin’s Halls that like to be watched while having sex, too, but I’ve never had the courage to go watch.”

Bilba’s jaw dropped. She had no idea what to say about _that!_

“Now, what about your dream?” Ori asked again.

Bilba flushed.

“Oh, please share!” begged the young scribe.

“Alright. It isn’t as uh… involved as yours. It did start out as a nightmare. I was back in Bag End and Willoughby Boffin had me pressed up against the wall.”

Bilba’s voice shook a little, so Ori put one hand on her shoulder in comfort and support.

The hobbit smiled at her friend and took a deep breath to continue.

“This time when I shouted for help it wasn’t Dwalin that came, but Thorin. He pulled Willoughby off me with one arm and threw him outside and the door shut behind him,” Bilba sighed with a small smile on her face.

Ori smiled when she recalled how Bilba had slumped over after seeing the King-in-Exile pick up his nephews one-handed earlier in their travels. With her reaction to such a display of strength being what it was, the scribe thought the hobbit would fit in just fine with all the other dwarrowdams in the mountain.

“I sort of fell into Thorin’s arms and all of a sudden he didn’t have his tunics on, like...,” Bilba reddened, “like when he came out of the smithy earlier.”

Ori smiled widened and nodded.

“He touched my face and I put my arms around his neck. Then…”

“Then?” Ori encouraged her to continue.

“Then he kissed me.” Bilba was sure her face was scarlet by now.

Ori let out a tiny squeal of delight. “What happened next?”

“It got a little hazy after that. We were, well… rubbing against each other I guess. It felt really good. Um, that is when you woke me up.”

“I’m sorry for that. If I’d known, I’d have left you alone to enjoy yourself!”

Bilba giggled a little hysterically. “I have no idea what would have happened if you did let me sleep! I don’t know anything about sex. In the Shire we aren’t taught anything about it. We are expected to go into marriage as ignorant virgins.”

“That must make for some awkward wedding nights.”

Bilba giggled again, “Probably!”

“Do you want to know?” Ori asked seriously after they had finished laughing. “I could tell you what is taught in the sex ed class. You know, the mechanics, safety, self pleasure. Stuff like that.”

 _‘Self pleasure?’_ Biting her lip, Bilba took a deep breath to gather her courage, then nodded her head. She spent what was left of the night with either a blush or a gaping mouth. Or both.

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile in the common area, the Dwarf King was enjoying his own intimate dream encounter with Bilba.

 

xXx Thorin/Bilba Start xXx

 

Thorin was working alone in the smithy when he heard a sound come from behind. Turning he saw the hobbit. She was wrapped only in a pale robe.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I wanted to watch you,” she answered. Letting the robe drop from her shoulders she step up to him. Bilba stretched up and looped her arms around his neck. The height difference once again left her flush against his body.

Only now did he notice his own clothing, or rather the lack thereof. All that stood between her soft curves and his firm body, her wetness and his hard member was a leather smithing apron.

Moaning, his hands grasped her hips and pulled her more tightly against him. Bilba looked up at him as if he was the Arkenstone itself and he could not resist swooping down and devouring her lips in a kiss.

Bilba let out her own moan, muffled by the kiss, and buried her hands in his hair. In response Thorin wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her up, and deepened the kiss. Once Bilba’s feet had left the ground she wrapped her legs around his torso. Thorin moved his hands to her shapely bottom to help her to remain there.

They stood there for several minutes. Tongues stroking one another and battling back and forth between mouths. Then, Thorin carried her to a nearby workbench. When he set her down on it Bilba release her hold on him and lay back on the table, her arms above her head and a seductive smile on her lips.

Thorin took this opportunity to quickly remove the apron then feasted on the beautiful body laid out before him, first with his eyes, quickly followed by his hands and mouth.

Bilba was so responsive. She arched into every caress. She gasped when he took one nipple into his mouth to lick and suck while fingers rolled and pinched the other. She moaned loudly when he pressed his hardness into her hot, wet folds and wrapped her legs around him once more to draw him in deeper. She lifted her hips into every thrust. As they got more forceful she moved her arms from her hold on the far side of the table to grasp the near side by her bottom to keep from sliding away from him.

“Harder!” she cried out.

Holding her hips firmly in place, he gave her all he had.

Bilba let out a continuous string of gasps and moans until she called out, “Thorin!” as her inner walls fluttered in orgasm.

Thorin continued to thrust into her tightness. _‘Mahal, he was so close!’_

 

xXx Thorin/Bilba End xXx

 

That is when a particularly loud snore from Gloin woke him. Thorin wasn’t sure if he wanted to suffocate his cousin with a pillow or if he should be grateful the noise had woken him before he’d made a mess in his pants. Instead he got up to go to the privy to take care of the problem.

On first glance he’d thought he was the first one awake. However, he encountered Balin sitting at a table drinking tea on his way. The white haired dwarf smirked at his predicament, but continued to enjoy his tea in silence. Thorin made a rude gesture at him, but proceeded on.

After finding relief he returned to join his friend.

“I am too old for that sort of nocturnal problem,” Thorin groused.

“If you truly were too old to _live_ you would be dead,” Balin countered, giving him a look.

Instead of responding Thorin reached for the teapot. He’d just poured himself a cup when Dwalin came into view bearing the same problem Thorin had had.

Balin couldn’t help letting out a quiet chuckle.

“Shut it!” Dwalin said, giving them the same rude gesture Thorin had made shortly before and kept walking. He returned sometime later and poured himself a cup of tea. Taking a sip the burly dwarf grimaced. He preferred coffee to tea, especially this early in the day.

“Have an entertaining night, brother?” Balin inquired.

Dwalin scowled and Thorin gave him a half smirk.

“I know who Thorin was dreaming of to get into the same situation.”

Dwalin snickered, and it was Thorin’s turn to scowl.

“But,” continued the white haired dwarf, “what about you? Who were you dreaming about? Anyone we know?”

Dwalin pulled out a tiny bag on a long loop that he wore around his neck and under his clothes. From it he drew a piece of deep blue jade about the size of his pinky finger that he had carried for most of his life.

One of the sporadic trading caravans from the Orocarni dwarf clans far to the east had brought it to the market in Erebor several years before it fell to the dragon. Even with the haggling it had been expensive given that jade was not naturally found in this part of the world, but he knew when he saw it he had to have it.

“Have you decided what to do with your worry stone yet?” needled the King-in-Exile.

Those few who knew he carried it, like his brother and Thorin, sometimes teased him for purchasing an expensive crafting material and leaving it in its raw state.

“Yes,” Dwalin answered remembering his dream.

 

xXx Dwalin/Ori Start xXx

 

Dwalin was sitting at his desk in his office in the guard house when she came in. Ori was wearing the sleeveless black robe of a scribe over the purple dress she often wore around the mountain. Most of his attention was occupied by admiring the view, but a small part vaguely wondered if it was her favorite dress.

She stepped inside, shut the door and leaned back against it.

“Do you have a few minutes?” she smiled sensually.

“For ye? I’ll make time.”

“Good,” she said and he heard the lock click. This was immediately followed by her black robe dropping from her shoulders. She made her way slowly around the desk, stripping off all her clothes before she reached his chair.

Ori reached for his belt and then there was a furious rush between the two of them to get his clothing off. When they were both bare, she wasted no time straddling his lap and lowering herself onto his hardness.

They both moaned.

Taking one of his hands in her own Ori placed them over her belly and said “We will have to start thinking of names.”

Dwalin’s gaze flew from their joined hands to her face in shock.

Smiling, Ori nodded her head.

It was at this point the Dwalin noticed that her braids were capped with beads made of gold and a very familiar blue stone. And Dwalin knew she wore them because Ori was his One and he’d made them for her.

Then, placing her hands on his shoulders, she started to move.

One arm wrapped around her waist while the other supported her back and head as she arched in pleasure. He used this as an opportunity to suckle her nipples which caused his beard to caress the soft skin of her belly.

Gasping she increased her pace. Ori had just thrown her head back and moaned her completion when something hit him in the face waking him up.

 

xXx Dwalin/Ori End xXx

 

Dwalin had opened his eyes to see that Kili had shifted in his sleep, throwing his arm out with his hand landing on Dwalin’s nose. Shoving the arm away he’d gotten up. In his frustration he’d imagined breaking the young prince’s fingers one by one. That was when he’d encountered Thorin and Balin.

“Really?” Balin asked, both he and Thorin leaning forward in interest. “What is it to be then?”

He’d known the right project for the jade would come to him eventually. It was certainly not the way he’d thought inspiration would strike, but he had no doubt that the jade was meant to become those beads in Ori’s hair. His One’s hair.

Dwalin pulled a piece of parchment, ink, and quill over in front of himself and began to draw. When he was done with the sketch, he showed it to his two companions.

“Hair beads?” Thorin slyly said to Balin. “He does not wear them. What use would he have for such things?”

“What indeed? They must be a gift for someone!” Balin said in mock astonishment.

“It must be for someone special if he is going to use the jade he has carried around for more than a hundred-fifty years!” pointed out the King-in-Exile.

“Perhaps he has found his One! Maybe they are meant to be a courting gift!” Balin shrewdly suggested.

“Yes, ye wise arses,” Dwalin grumbled crossing his arms. He glanced at the group of still sleeping dwarves and whispered, “Her brothers are gonna kill me.”

“If you approached her just for sex, yes. Yes, they would,” Balin confirmed. “However if you wanted to, say court her, I’m sure they could be persuaded to spare your life.”

“I will have ta find some gold somewhere.”

“I have a small amount of gold that is ready for crafting. It should be enough for what you have in mind,” Thorin offered.

“Thank ye. I will pay ye fair market price fer it,” Dwalin stated.

Thorin nodded his agreement.

“The hard part will be getting a chance ta talk ta her in private without her brothers once the beads are finished.”

“Oh, I think we can arrange something,” his brother assured him. “I am sure Bilba would be willing to help.”

“I would prefer it if you would wait until after the quest is completed before you approach her,” Thorin requested. “Dori is fussy enough as it is.”

Balin rolled his eyes, and Dwalin gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Go wake Nori,” Thorin told Balin. To his other companion he said, “We have to talk. I have learned some important information during our stay here that you need to know.”

“Why the thief?” Dwalin asked.

“Because he is already involved,” said the Dwarf King.

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time I’ve ever written a sex scene and I end up writing four (or three and a half with an idea for another). There sooo could have been a Bilba/Ori in this chapter. This surprised me because I VERY RARELY read f/f.
> 
> UPDATE! You can find the Bilba/Ori scene [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6045901)
> 
> Important for Plot: Dwalin has realized Ori is his One! Yay! He has been carrying a piece of blue jade around since before Erebor fell that he has decided to make into beads for a courting present for Ori.


	21. A Few Steps Forward, One Big Step Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> Thanks to everyone that favorited and/or followed, and a VERY big thank you to everyone who left comments! A shout out goes to Wolveyaon for giving this a read through. All mistakes are still mine.  
> Rough Khuzdul translation ahead.

oOoOoOo

Dwalin’s reaction was just what Thorin expected it to be.

“Are ye sure _he,_ ” making a pointed gesture at Nori (who winked at him), “and the elves can be believed?” Dwalin asked, scowling at the thief in return.

“I do not doubt Nori, and at present I am inclined to believe the elves,” Thorin informed him. “I do not see what they or Nori would gain by lying. If the quest were not so time sensitive I would be tempted to order the company back to Ered Luin to investigate this Amrad Babanal and Nar. It is all too grievous to chance on not taking it seriously.”

Dwalin let out a string of curses. “I knew ye had somethin’ important on yer mind and I knew ye’d talk ta me about it eventually, but-” He let out another string of swearing, “I didna expect this! A dark lord, a member of the Royal Council giving kakhf [crap] advice at the very least, _and_ a treasonous plot on top o’ facing a dragon?!”

“Aye,” the other three sighed in unison.

“Not that council members giving kakhf [crap] advice is so very surprising,” Thorin said. “No offense meant to you, Balin.”

“None taken, laddie. I’ve sat through the same meetings you have. I _still_ can’t believe Fommli suggested pulling dwarrow from rebuilding the Main Gate and outer wall less than a year after we’d settled in Ered Luin. Mines still blocked, housing just barely acceptable, and _he_ wanted to expand the council’s offices,” Balin scoffed.

Thorin smirked. “I will never forget the look my father gave him for that ‘advice.’”

“His ‘you can’t possibly be stupid enough for that to be a serious idea, but you are apparently stupid enough to waste my time with it anyways’ look,” chuckled Balin. “It was almost as amusing as Fili’s and Kili’s hairstyles for you as long as it was directed at someone else.”

“What is the plan now?” asked the brawny dwarf drawing them back to the present.

“Right now we prepare to leave and continue on our quest. The more quickly we reclaim Erebor, the earlier we can look into this information,” Thorin answered then he explained what the elves and wizard had planned for Durin’s Day.

“I understand the strategy, but I still feel like bait fer a dragon,” Dwalin said.

“More so for Bilba than us. She is the one that is to go inside,” Balin countered.

The dwarrow looked at each other uncomfortably.

“I am still working on making the copies of Nori’s book. I would like to get that done before we depart,” requested the white haired dwarf.

“You will have time,” Thorin assured him. “I still need to discuss supplies with Lord Elrond. I’d be surprised if it takes less than a week to arrange.”

oOoOoOo

Soon after the early morning discussion Nori was surprised by Bilba when she grabbed his arm and drew him away from the rest of the company. Naturally curious, he gave no resistance.

When she was confident they had privacy Bilba finally spoke, “You witnessed my fountain incident didn’t you?”

Nori let out a chuckle.

“I will take that as a ‘yes,’” she said. “Have you mentioned what we spoke of to anyone?”

“Naw. I think it’s harmless fer lasses ta keep somefin’ like dat a secret ‘n have a laugh o’er it.”

“That is good to hear. I would appreciate it if you would keep it that way and not mention what was spoken about to anyone, particularly Thorin. I could of course compensate you for the inconvenience.”

Nori’s eyebrows rose. “Wha’d ye have in mind?” he asked.

“How about an additional dish of your choice?” offered Bilba.

“Hmm, suppose dat would be enough incentive ta no’ bring up the subject.”

Bilba sighed in relief.

“But,” Nori continued, “dere is always da chance Thorin’d ask ‘bout it.”

The hobbit’s shoulders sagged. He was right of course. “I would not dare ask you to tell a falsehood to your king.”

“Thorin be my king, true enough, ‘n I’ll no’ out right lie ta him if he should ask, but I might be convinced ta misdirect and deflect without havin’ ta fib.”

“Oh?” Bilba asked intrigued. “And what would such extra discretion cost me?”

“A full course meal, all da dishes, of my choosin’. Oh, I know ye donna have da stock ta be fulfillin’ dat any time soon, but later, maybe after da quest ‘n dings is more settled.”

“We have a deal, Master Dwarf,” Bilba said, holding her hand out to him.

Shaking it, he agreed, “Aye! Pleasure doin’ business wicha!”

Nori grinned. Who knew the guileless seeming lass could play the game?!

oOoOoOo

The dwarves were happy to hear that they would soon be leaving Rivendell, but Bilba knew both Ori and Balin shared her regret in not having more time to spend in the elves’ library. She had noticed that the elder dwarf had seemed to be busy with tasks for Thorin during much of their stay.

 _‘Kingly, quest-ish, important things no doubt,’_ she thought. _‘Pity they can’t just enjoy the peace found in Imladris.’_

When Elrond’s three offspring heard of their new friend’s imminent departure they spent as much time with Bilba as possible, much to Thorin’s displeasure. So far the twins seemed to get on rather well with his nephews. He was unsure if he felt more relief or concern over this fact.

That evening the hobbit talked some of the dwarves into playing some lively music while she taught them and the elves a dance from the Shire. It involved partners doing a lot of whirling around each other while moving with the other couples around in a larger circle.

Bilba took turns dancing with different partners. After the first few times of having her feet stepped on Bilba asked them all to remove their boots. Even Gandalf removed his and took a turn.

The height difference between her and the Big Folk was a little awkward so the twins came up with idea of putting the hobbit on the large round table in the common area. They would do the steps to move around the circle and when it came time to spin the elf would whirl around with the hobbit in his arms then place her back on the table.

Once assured there was nothing that was going to be damaged by her dancing on the table Bilba let loose and enjoyed herself, smiling and throwing her head back with laughter.

Thorin watched from the edge of the room. He was torn between being captivated by the beauty of Bilba’s joy, a fierce jealousy that he was not the cause of it, and hope that neither showed in his bearing. Whatever front he was able to put on for the others did not seem to fool Balin and Dwalin.

“Just go dance with her,” the younger brother encouraged.

Thorin just shifted to rest against the wall.

“From what I’ve heard about the inhabitants of the Shire they enjoy parties as often as possible and that means, among other things, dancing. She seems to be fond of it. Best learn her dances. Maybe another time you can teach her some of ours,” Balin said.

Thorin rarely danced. He could do dwarven dances passably. The dancing instructors his grandfather had made him endure when he was young had made sure of that. Those dances were much more… sedate though. This dance was wild and carefree. Two things he was _not_.

“Alright, who is next? Dwalin? Balin? Thorin? None of you have taken a turn,” Bilba called to them.

Seeing that Thorin was not yet convinced to join in Dwalin volunteered to go next leaving his brother to deal with their reticent leader. He just hoped Thorin appreciated the sacrifice he was making.

“This should be entertaining,” the King-in-Exile smirked.

 _‘Apparently not,’_ Dwalin thought. He made a rude gesture behind his back at his friend as he moved to join Bilba.

Dwalin was a terrible dancer. A fact all of the dwarves were already aware of. Quite a few bore smirks and waited to see how the hobbit would deal with it. After a few minutes of enduring his stiff and awkward attempts to follow her through the steps she stopped him.

“What is the problem?” Bilba asked. “You are graceful enough during sword practice.”

“That is different. That is about battle,” Dwalin grumbled.

By this time Fili and Kili had lost control of their laughter. Bilba gave the two young dwarves such a withering and disapproving glare even Thorin almost felt bad about teasing his friend. Almost. He’d probably be nearly as bad at it as Dwalin after all. It did succeed in stopping the laughter however.

“It is not as different as you think. Dancing _is_ a battle. It’s a social battle and the path to victory is working _with_ the other participants instead of trying to kill them. Imagine it is just another one of those drills you make me repeat over and over and _over_. I am your weapon. You guide me through the steps so we _don’t_ hit the other couples or anything else. Now let’s try again.”

More than one jaw dropped when Dwalin was able to make a (mostly) graceful circuit around the circle.

“See,” beamed Bilba a little while later, “you can do it!”

Off to the side Balin continued his effort to get Thorin to dance. “If she can get Dwalin to dance like that, then you should be fine.”

“Perhaps.”

“You know, it is also an excellent way to interact with Bilba outside a formal courtship, and there is no need to feel pressure on a romantic front. We are all dancing with her. In fact it will be more conspicuous if you _don’t_ dance with the lass. You might hurt her feelings or make her think you don’t like her. Something which won’t help you later on.”

“That is true,” Thorin conceded.

As they continued to watch the hobbit astonished and amused them by somehow managing to pass her much improved partner on to dance with Ori sometime later and headed in their direction. Bilba had done it without it seeming contrived or awkward either, although Dori did give the burly guardsman a dirty look when he noticed.

“I’ll go now so that you can dance with her last. Feel free to take an extended turn,” Balin softly told him.

Much to Thorin’s and Dwalin’s annoyance Balin was an excellent dancer. He and Bilba were an elegant couple even with the lively manner of dance.

“Don’t take no for an answer if Thorin tries to decline, lass,” Balin spoke softly enough to keep their conversation private.

“He does not have to dance if he does not wish to,” Bilba responded to her partner just as quietly.

“His life is very serious more often than not. He could use some merriment in it. He is also a bit shy about not being able to dance much better than Dwalin.” Balin gave her and encouraging smile, “Don’t give up.”

“Well, Dwalin did well enough with a change of point of view. Maybe Thorin would benefit from the same.”

“He just might, lass. He just might.”

When Balin claimed his old bones had had enough dancing for the moment he turned Bilba once again to the King-in-Exile. She tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrows at Thorin in silent question. He definitely needed to relax and have some fun. If he had declined she supposed she could have claimed she was taking a break and tried to talk him into it, but it didn’t look like that was necessary.

Gathering his courage Thorin took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the wall.

 _‘It is just a dance. It is not a big deal,’_ he thought to himself as he quickly removed his boots. _‘Mahal! I should not be this nervous!’_ Surreptitiously he wiped sweating palms on his clothes as he approached the hobbit.

Bilba gave him a small smile and took his hands. She placed one of his on her waist then hers on his shoulder.

Not for the last time Thorin had to resist pulling her closer.

“Do I need to remind you of the advice I gave to Dwalin?” she asked.

Thorin shook his head. “No. I will, however, keep it in mind,” he assured her.

“Alright,” she said and then the dance lesson began.

“Is that how you look at Dwalin’s weapons practice?” Thorin asked spinning Bilba through the dance steps, “Dancing lessons?”

She grinned. “After the first few days, yes. It seemed to help me, so I thought the reverse might help him.”

“It certainly looked that way,” he agreed.

The elves sat with some of the dwarves taking a break from the energetic hobbit style frolicking.

“The hobbit and the Dwarf King, hmm?” Elrohir softly asked.

“Mmhm!” they all agreed.

“I suppose that means we have little chance of keeping her,” Elladan sighed.

As one the dwarves turned and gave him dirty looks accompanied by varying responses along the same vein of meaning. Balin’s ‘No chance whatsoever,’ was the most polite.

“They look very well together,” the elf conceded.

“Are they courting?” his brother asked.

That drew a collective sigh. In soft voices the twins were informed of the situation. And so two more elves joined the matchmaking conspiracy.

Once Thorin had the basic dance down well enough Bilba started teaching everyone the more advanced version which had even more whirls, hops, and spins. Thorin and Dwalin were both surprised to find they found this easier. The more complicated version actually made Bilba’s advice about dancing being a ‘social battle’ make more sense.

Thorin was also surprised to find he was enjoying himself. Whether that was because of his partner or because she succeeded in making him a better dancer than any of his instructors had managed he did not think too long about. He doubted horrible dancing on his part would diminish his enjoyment of being able to hold Bilba in his arms. Even if he had to keep reminding himself not to pull her as close as he wished to, or not think of the intimate dreams he had had of her.

Bilba’s thoughts were similar to those of the King-in-Exile. She had never had this much fun with her partners back in the Shire or even any of the others she had danced with earlier in the evening. She just hoped she didn’t look like a fawning tween. More than once she’d had to remind herself not to think about what he looked like with his tunic off else she was afraid she would start to drool. Thorin was the king of his people. He surely wouldn’t think of her that way. She was just a hobbit. One who hoped to show him that she wasn’t silly, that she could be an asset on his quest. She wouldn’t do that if she acted like a lovesick fool tripping over her own feet!

The dancing lasted late into the evening as the dwarves traded off providing the music. Bilba taught them several dances, both partnered and not, but Bilba always danced significantly longer with Thorin. He never tried to bow out and Bilba never tried to pass him off to another partner. Certainly no one else tried to cut in!

oOoOoOo

The following day the sons of Elrond found Bilba as she was searching Imladris for something. “Miss Bilba!” Elladan said as he and his brother bowed. “We were on our way to your rooms to see if you would join us for tea. How are you this fine day?”

“Very well,” she informed the two elves, “I am trying to get ready for our departure however.”

“We shall be sad to see you go, but is there anything we can do to assist you with your preparations?” inquired Elrohir.

“Yes,” she said. “Do you have any scissors?”

oOoOoOo

Thorin was discussing supplies with Elrond and Lady Galadriel in the lord’s study when Arwen rushed in shouting in Sindarin. He thought the elf maid looked paler than usual.

 _‘What now?'_ he wondered. The dwarf only knew a few words and phrases in the elven language, but one of those was the word for his kind and he was sure he had heard her say it.

Thorin saw the Elf Lord pale slightly in shock, then his expression darkened and he spoke angry words which were followed by coldly furious ones from Lady Galadriel before she stormed out of the room.

Inwardly Thorin cursed. Each elf had used the word for dwarf, but the outraged blond had used the word for _war_ as well. Thorin was starting to worry what his company had done to alarm the elves so.

“Forgive us, Master Oakenshield,” Elrond said standing to hurry them after his mother-in-law. “There has been and incident. I suggest we hurry and go assess the situation and hopefully stop any bloodshed from occurring.”

 _"Bloodshed?!_ What sort of incident?” he asked practically running to keep up with the elves’ long strides. It would be just their luck if they had to fight their way out of Rivendell! Bilba would be so angry with them. It would be a long time before she would make those blackberry tarts again if it came to that!

Elrond thought back on what had been said before giving an answer.

_“{Ada! Ada! Come quickly before the dwarves kill Elladan and Elrohir!}” Arwen shouted as she rushed into the room._

_“{What is wrong, Arwen? What have they done?}”_

_Elrond felt himself pale at her gasped response before anger took over._

_“{I just may kill them myself and I will not need the dwarves assistance with it!}” the Elf Lord stood._

_“{Not if I get to them first! I am trying to make peace with the dwarves and your sons are trying. To. Start. A. War!}” Galadriel said before leaving the room._

“Now, Master Oakenshield,” the Lord of Imladris spoke, “I suggest we go see what damage has been done before we jump to any conclusions.”

“What. Has. Happened?” Thorin demanded forcefully.

“I do not have any details, but from what my daughter has said, for reasons unknown to me, my sons have apparently... cut Bilba Baggins’ hair,” the Elf Lord said horrified.

 _“WHAT?!"_  roared the dwarf.

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter was inspired by Walk the Moon’s “Shut Up and Dance.”


	22. Consequences of a Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> Thanks to Wolveyaon for giving this a read through. All mistakes are still mine.

oOoOoOo

Shortly after Thorin, Elrond, and Arwen caught up to Lady Galadriel the group came upon the scene of the commotion.

The dwarven members of Thorin’s Company were in battle stances, each with their weapons ready. Facing off against them was a similarly postured group of elves that had positioned themselves between the dwarves and the twin sons of their Lord. There was so much shouting none of their words could be understood.

In between the two groups stood the hobbit. She was doing her best to make sure the violence did not start. Dwalin pushed her behind the line of dwarves and she ducked under and around them to stand between the two groups once more.

Bilba’s beautiful brown curls had once reached halfway down her back. Now those locks did not quite reached her shoulders.

All elves had long, perfectly straight hair while the dwarves tended to have wavy (and often coarse) hair. This left both races, to one degree or another, fascinated by Bilba's fine curls that were so different from their own.

Thorin was seething. It was a good thing he did not have his own weapons on him. He would have led the charge. Those treacherous elves had acted as her friend and then they betrayed her like _this!_ A part of him said he should have expected such a betrayal from elves, but another noted that Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel appeared to be nearly as furious as he was. It was this last part that kept him from giving the order to attack. The blackberry tarts appeared in his mind’s eye, but he pushed the thought away. He’d gladly give those up to defend the hobbit’s honor!

 _“SILENCE!"_ the Dwarf King roared with all his might as he stepped forward.

The groups stopped shouting at one another. Weapons were lowered a little, but they were nowhere near being sheathed.

Gandalf came hurrying up from behind the newcomers.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed the wizard when he saw the hobbit.

“Elladan! Elrohir! Explain yourselves!” Lord Elrond demanded.

“I hope your explanation is worth stopping them from spilling your blood,” Galadriel growled.

Elladan and Elrohir trembled at the power behind their grandmother's voice.

“Bilba was going to cut her own hair,” rushed out the first twin.

“She said she wanted it shorter because it was too difficult to care for while traveling,” the second added just as quickly.

Thorin thought he was going to have to call them Left and Right in his head again if they were going to keep taking turns talking like this.

"We could not talk her out of cutting it," the first spoke again.

“We convinced her to let us do it so that we could leave it longer,” said the second.

 _‘They were,’_ thought Thorin.

“We thought maybe if we did it she would be satisfied with it at the length we cut it at,” reasoned Left.

“She was going to cut it much shorter than that!” Right said pointing to the hobbit.

“Is this true, Bilba?” Elrond inquired of the hobbit.

“Yes, it is. I don’t understand what all this bother is about!” the hobbit huffed.

“Are you aware it is a grave insult for another to cut short the hair of a dwarf? That they are in fact quite particular about who they permit to trim or even style it?” the Lord of Imladris questioned. “I understand that it is a show of trust and a great honor to be permitted to touch their hair.”

The dwarves nodded their head in confirmation.

“I’d gathered that, yes,” Bilba confirmed, “but I am not a dwarf.”

“No, but you travel with a party of dwarves. They have taken you under their protection, and they do seem fond of you,” Elrond smiled gently.

"Aye, lass!" the dwarves agreed.

“Cutting hair does not mean much for hobbits,” Gandalf said, “but for elves and especially dwarves it is a very big concern. To cut one’s hair short is a sign of dishonor.”

“My grandsons know this,” stated Lady Galadriel.

“To the dwarves what Elladan and Elrohir did is an insult to you, and because you are here under their protection, an insult to them as well. Doubly so, no doubt, because it was done by elves,” concluded the wizard.

“I will not let something of this magnitude go unpunished!” Thorin declared.

“But they did it with my permission! There is no need for all this fuss!” Bilba objected.

“Yet it was unwise for my sons to do this,” professed Elrond.

“It is not as if they cut off one of my limbs! My hair _will_ grow back!” she argued.

Elrond gave her a considering look.

“How long will it take for your hair to grow back to the length it once was?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a year or two I would guess,” Bilba responded confused.

“Thorin Oakenshield, may I speak with you privately?” the Elf Lord asked.

“Do you think to talk me out of punishing them because they are your sons?!” the Dwarf King accused.

“Not at all,” Lord Elrond denied. “I have a proposal for their punishment.”

“Surely it wouldn’t hurt to at least listen to what he has to say,” coaxed Gandalf.

Glowering, the Dwarf King followed the Lord of Rivendell to a nearby terrace, one far enough to provide privacy, but close enough to be on hand should hostilities arise again.

“I am sure you understand that I can not allow you to do actual harm to my sons. Regardless of other circumstances involved, they did have her consent,” Elrond began.

“Get to your proposal,” Thorin demanded.

“Fili and Kili seem enthusiastic about your quest. Think how they would feel if you had denied them the chance to join you.”

“What is your point?”

“Like your nephews, my sons are young for our kind. We are preparing to march off to battle. As part of their punishment, I propose forbidding them to march with us.”

“What is to stop them from doing so anyways?”

“The second part of the punishment. They act as messenger and deliver your letters to the Shire and Ered Luin. Then they can deliver any letters from your families to you wherever you may be. By that time it is likely any fighting will be over with, and my sons will serve Bilba in whatever function she requires.”

“You speak of our practice of indentured servitude,” Thorin said surprised.

“I do. I believe servitude for twice the amount of time it takes for her hair to grow back would be traditional.”

“You are willing to subject your sons to that in order that they might regain their honor in our eyes?” Thorin inquired. “Even if it means cutting their hair as well?”

Inwardly Elrond cringed. “I must confess I am not fond of that particular portion of the tradition, but it is preferable to physical harm. Do you find my proposal acceptable?”

It was a far more reasonable punishment than Thorin had been expecting. Having not one, but _two_ elves in such service could elevate Bilba’s position in his people’s eyes, especially those who would protest about her not being a dwarf. The only downside he could see was it would mean having the two mischievous elves around for several years, even inside his mountain too, if he could convince Bilba to stay. Other than this incident they had behaved well enough though.

“It is acceptable,” Thorin said after a moment. “However, I must insist that any further mischief on their parts will extend the time they must serve.”

“So be it. Have you a preference on who writes the contract?”

“Balin.”

“Let me send for him so we may get this settled. I want no bloodshed between our people.”

oOoOoOo

Gandalf mediated the negotiations that took place over the details of the contract between Thorin and Elrond with Balin acting as scribe. During this the twins stood at the doorway listening as their fate was decided. The other dwarves stayed in the other room and fussed over Bilba’s hair, suggesting hairstyles that would conceal how short it now was or others that would (or would have) made caring for it on the road easier.

Once the contract was completed the twins were permitted to enter, and Gandalf went to fetch the rest of the company.

One of the twins handed the Dwarf King a folded handkerchief.

Giving them a suspicious look, Thorin unwrapped it to find a long brown curl bound on one end with piece of leather. A _familiar_ brown curl.

“We knew you would be upset no matter who did the actual cutting,” one of the twins spoke.

“So we saved this for you,” said the other.

Thorin did recognize it as an apology of sorts, but he was not prepared to grant them any forgiveness just yet. Instead he refolded the handkerchief and put it in his inner tunic pocket alongside the map and key.

oOoOoOo

_“For the act of cutting the hair of Bilba Baggins, a hobbit under the protection of Thorin Oakenshield and Company, Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond of Rivendell, will serve Bilba for the span of four years and a day. Their first task is to deliver communiques from Bilba and her traveling companions to their families in the Shire and Ered Luin and deliver any replies to the intended recipients. They will then be under the stewardship of Bilba. Bilba may require of them any reasonable task, including that of bodyguard, or employ any of their skills for her benefit…”_

The document went on for a few more feet detailing the terms and consequences for not fulfilling the contract.

“We find this acceptable,” one of the twins said.

“You can not be serious!” Bilba exclaimed.

“We are willing to serve you, my Lady,” the other said.

"I do not like it,” the hobbit protested. “They would practically be slaves!"

"Not slaves. Indentured servants," Lord Elrond explained. "They have rights, and you have responsibilities towards them. I know you do not want violence to erupt over this any more than we do. I believe this is the best option for keeping the peace."

Bilba looked doubtfully at the others.

“They are skilled warriors and talented healers. Both may be useful to you in the years to come,” shared Lady Galadriel.

“This is a way for them to reclaim their honor without enduring physical harm. Please accept it,” Gandalf encouraged.

Bilba sighed.

“I had the thought of cutting it short more like how male hobbits wear theirs so it would be easier to care for on the road. It took four people nearly an hour to detangle my hair when we got here, you know!” the hobbit declared. “Elladan and Elrohir offered to do it so I wouldn’t completely butcher my hair by trying to do it myself. If I had known the kind of uproar this would cause I never would have let them do it!”

The dwarves recalled with horror how short that cur Boffin’s hair had been. Thorin cringed inwardly at the thought that he might actually owe these two elves a bit gratitude for stopping her even if he did not approve of their alternative.

“We know,” said one twin, “but then your hair would be only a few inches long!”

“You were in danger of cutting off the tip of your ear with that first snip if we had let you cut it where you had wanted to!” added the second.

“Thank you for that much at least!” Bilba reached up and touched her ear in alarm.

“We had to save it and as much of your beautiful hair as we could!” shared the first.

“Serving you is an acceptable consequence for doing so,” the other assured her.

"Oh, Bilba!" cried Ori nearly in tears. "I know none of us are your kin, but one of us could have braided it. Don’t you trust us enough to do that for you? We would have saved your beautiful hair!"

"Of course I do!” Bilba assured her friend. “Oh, bother! I am sorry. I had no idea this would cause such a ruckus! I did not want to inconvenience anyone."

"It wouldn’t have been an inconvenience, especially if it would have saved your hair!" moaned Kili.

"See!" pointed out one of the twins. "That is why we did it!"

Bilba gave them a half smile.

“Very well. I will do it,” she sighed. “But only because it will prevent fighting!” she added before signing her name on the contract.

The twins stepped forward next, but instead of signing right away they removed the circlets they each wore on their brow and placed them along with their other jewelry in velvet lined boxes held by their father and sister.

“What are they doing?” Bilba asked.

“While in your service they can not wear symbols of their house or status,” explained Elrond. “They will be given plain clothes and unadorned armor and weapons.”

“Is that necessary?” questioned Bilba. “Wouldn’t it be better for them keep using their normal gear instead of getting used to new things?”

“I am not that familiar with the dwarves' custom on that matter,” Elrond said raising an eyebrow in question to the dwarves.

“There are some items, like weapons, they may continue to use if Bilba permits it, but if they bear emblems of their position in your house the symbols have to be covered,” Thorin disclosed. “Jewelry or anything too ornate can not be worn. They can wear items of great value that are functional, such as mithril chain shirts, but armor or clothing needs to be plain. The only adornment they may wear is a tabard that shows the symbols of their servitude.”

"If you will show me what needs to be on them I can embroider the tabards for my brothers," offered Arwen.

“That is acceptable," Thorin consented.

"With Bilba's approval they may also use their horses, but the tackle would also have to be unadorned,” added Balin.

“Of course they can use whatever they need to, even their horses,” the hobbit confirmed though she did not understand why anyone would want the beasts. She would much rather walk! She did hope their own escaped ponies had gotten away from the orcs and were somewhere safe though.

“Very well,” Lord Elrond said. “Shall you inspect them before they depart? I would have the custom respectfully followed.”

“Aye, we will look them over,” Balin affirmed.

The twins signed the contract which was then witnessed by Thorin, Elrond, and Gandalf.

“Who shall be cutting their hair?” Elrond asked. The twins winced.

“I believe that is normally done by the offended party,” Gandalf mentioned giving the hobbit a look.

"What? No, I won’t do that! Surely that isn't necessary!" Bilba denied.

"Yes, it is," she was firmly told.

The dwarves put their heads together and argued quietly among themselves. Standing stiffly Bilba gave them an irritated glare the whole time.

The wizard was curious to see who would prevail. Since Bilba wouldn’t cut the elves’ hair a family member should have the right to do so. With none present that made for an interesting circumstance. If the hobbit was more acquainted with dwarven custom she would realize that whoever won would be claiming her as kin in some form.

_‘It would be_ most _telling if Thorin insisted on being the one to do the shearing,’_ Gandalf though as he fought back a grin, though truly he didn’t put too much effort into it.

In the end the two who won were Dwalin, because he was Bilba’s first protector, and Fili, because it was his weapon she had first drawn to protect herself.

The twins knelt on the ground before the dwarves. Dwalin took the pair of scissors handed to him by Lady Galadriel.

“NO!” Bilba yelled putting herself once again between dwarves and elves. “Really, I must put my foot down on this! We have already agreed to that servant tradition of yours even though the three of us are not dwarves. They had my permission! Surely it does not need to be carried out this far!”

“Well…” Balin faltered looking at the King-in-Exile.

“Are they not already in my service?” she asked.

The Dwarf King hesitated.

“As the so called ‘victim’ do I not get _any_ say in their punishment?” Bilba entreated Thorin.

Bilba was correct in that she should have some input, especially as a wronged female.

Crossing his arms he remembered the curl wrapped in a handkerchief that now resided in his pocket.

They’d already established that she was less than pleased about the contract, but it was signed and must be fulfilled. Thorin supposed he could give her this.

“Very well. If you wish to spare them from being shorn, as the injured party, I recognize your right to grant such mercy,” the King-in-Exile formally granted.

Dwalin gave him an incredulous look before putting the scissors down on the table next to the contract with more force than was necessary. The broad guardsman then moved to lean against the wall with his arms folded and continue to scowl at the twin elves.

Dropping his arms to his sides, Thorin continued, “If they do something else foolish I can not guarantee such leniency again.”

Nodding, the hobbit grabbed one of Thorin’s large hands with both of hers. “Thank you, Thorin!” she said earnestly, and gave him a wide smile.

Like Dwalin, Fili and the other dwarves were disappointed, but more than two twin elves were relieved at this new turn of events.

Thorin could still feel Bilba’s touch long after she had let go.

oOoOoOo


	23. The Last of Rivendell, On This Trip at Least

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that left kudos and/or subscribed, and a VERY big thank you to everyone who left comments!
> 
> A shout out goes to Wolveyaon for giving this a read through. All mistakes are still mine.

oOoOoOo

Arwen’s party and her two brothers joined the company again in their suite just as Dwalin called the younger members for weapons practice. The three elven siblings, as well as Arwen's handmaidens, bore armfuls of items.

"What is all that?" Bilba asked.

"These are our things," said one twin.

"We brought them so that you and the dwarves can approve them," said the other.

"Oh. Well. I give you permission to use anything you think you might need,” she smiled. “Now you just have to get them by the dwarves."

"Thank you, Lady Bilba," they bowed.

"Lady!" Bilba exclaimed. "I suppose you are going to tell me that is necessary too?" she asked the dwarves.

"I am afraid so," smiled Balin. "At least in company. In private they may call you whatever you wish."

"This doesn't count as private?"

"No,” Thorin stated firmly.

"Oh, bother!” said the exasperated hobbit.

“Maybe in a few years, lass," Baling gave her a half smile, “after they have earned some forgiveness.”

“I still think you all are overreacting," she sighed.

Thorin scowled and opened his mouth to respond.

“No!” Bilba stopped him, her pointed finger inches from his nose. “I would understand if they had done it without my permission, but that is not the case here! If I had known the fuss it would cause, would I have done things differently? Yes! I would have waited until after we had left Rivendell and _then_ cut my hair!”

The dwarves sputtered and gasped.

“As it is,” Bilba continued, “we have agreed to follow your people’s tradition. I mean no disrespect to either of your cultures, and I do not object to your company,” she told the twins, “but I am a hobbit! We may be simple folk, but we do have our own ways! If I want to cut my hair I will, and probably do a hack job of it, but I can’t risk getting help from anyone else now, can I?”

Bilba turned and started walking away.

Thorin stood there with his mouth still open.

The other dwarves looked away from him to hide their grins.

Not many would dare speak to the King-in-Exile like that. Even fewer could get that kind of reaction from him. Most of them were here on the quest, but none of them compared to Nis and Dis.

 _‘They are going to love Bilba,’_ the white haired councilor chuckled to himself, _‘and the three of them will keep Thorin on his toes.’_

Bilba had taken several steps before she turned back to the Dwarf King.

“You know what else? If I was going to obey every dictate someone else placed on me despite my own wishes I could have stayed in the Shire and married Willoughby Boffin! I expect you to take _that_ into consideration!” she said, ending the conversation by joining Dwalin for practice.

Thorin was shocked and pained at being compared, even vaguely, to the dishonorable filth that had hurt her. He did not want to control her! He just did not want to see her degraded!

The Dwarf King was unsure how reconcile her ways with theirs. If they married, she would be an honorary dwarf.

A word there gave him pause. It was a crucial part of the future - _if_.

Despite telling Balin and Dwalin that he did not know if anything would happen regarding his feelings for Bilba, Thorin had not truly considered that there would be any other outcome for them other than courtship and marriage before. Just because she was his One did not mean she would want such a relationship with him. She had the choice. He had to let her have the choice or he was no better than that beardless cur.

If the quest was successful in getting the Arkenstone it still might take several years for the armies of the seven dwarf clans to deal with the dragon. Any number of things could happen in that time. What if she wanted to leave?! What could he do to make her want to stay? All this did not change the fact that he could make her no promises or offer her anything until Erebor was retaken.

He realized he was trying to figure out how to make her fall in love and stay with him without making any commitments himself. Bilba Baggins was worth better behavior from him than that. But what could he do? All he had to offer was hope for a future together and it had been a long time since he had put any great trust in hope.

Thorin saw that Balin’s advice to become her friend was the right path. He would just have to find a way to deal with his jealousy privately. Not that he was _that_ accomplished at making friends. Balin and Dwalin could attest to that!

_‘Mahal! Who knew finding his One would make things so complicated!’_

While their king was coming to this understanding Balin, Oin, and Gloin started going through the elves' equipment. They sorted everything into three piles. One for the items that were acceptable the way they were, one for items that needed some modification, and the last for items they were not permitted to carry during their servitude. The last was very small, consisting mostly of small embellishments that were easily removed.

Thorin alternated between helping them and watching the practice.

"It is odd to see such a gentle creature wield a weapon," Elladan said softly.

"Aye, the hobbits are a peaceful folk for the most part," agreed Gloin. "I doubt Bilba will ever be a great warrior, but if she is ever in danger this might be enough to protect herself until help can come."

Thorin's heart stopped for a moment at the thought of Bilba in danger, then felt guilty because what were they taking her with them for other than to put her in danger? They had to continue on, the plans of the White Council made sure of that. Yet he did not have the option of leaving her behind because somehow they would not succeed without her. The Dwarf King said a quick plea to Aule that helping them would not cost Bilba her life.

Once everything was sorted, the twins started on the needed modifications.

Dori and Arwen sat at the table where they were going over the drawing of the sigils and their placement pattern that would be embroidered on the tabards. She had shown them several fabrics and thread. When the chosen materials were given final approval from Thorin and Balin, Arwen and her handmaidens set to work on their own task.

The Dwarf Lord joined Nori where he too was watching the practice. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Thorin broke it.

“Perhaps you could teach the hobbit how to... avoid detection while retrieving desired items.”

“Suppose I could give ‘er a few pointers,” Nori nodded.

oOoOoOo

Balin let Thorin know as soon as he was done transcribing Nori’s book. The King-in-Exile, of course, had Dwalin come along to discuss the information with his brother and the sneaky dwarf.

“Now that you have finished, is there anything else that stands out to you?” Thorin asked the counselor.

“Several, and none reassuring,” sighed Balin.

“Oh?”

“Nori was right. If an attempt fails several years usually pass before another attempt is made. As far as deaths go, as many as five are recorded for a single year, but there is always at least one listed.”

“That is at least two hundred dead!” Dwalin exclaimed.

Balin sighed. “The number is closer to six hundred.”

“Six _hundred_?” Thorin asked appalled.

“If Nori’s mentor had to investigate further beyond the jobs he did himself to get what is written in here there is a chance there may be even more than this,” Balin quietly pointed out. “Whomever is behind this has made a great deal of effort to remain undetected for so long.”

Six hundred of his people dead under his rule. They had not died valiantly in battle. They had been murdered. Their lives cut short by treachery.

“What else?” Thorin asked.

“Some of the names are not names, at least not any sort of name I’ve heard of. They seem more as if they are code names. They are written in Khuzdul runes, but the words do not mean anything to me.”

“Nori?”

“Aye, several o’ dose. I always supposed dey were another language, just written phonetically in Khuzdul da way Tengwar is often used.”

“That is possible,” Balin agreed, “but then it is a language I am unfamiliar with. Perhaps Tharkun would know.”

Thorin growled to himself. He still was not too pleased with the wizard at present for holding back the information about Thrain and Azog.

“I will take that under consideration,” he informed his councilor. “Anything else?”

“One of the years that does have more than five entries is 2799.”

“We lost many that year because of the Battle of Azanulbizar” Dwalin said. “Maybe the Amrad Babanal thought more wouldna be noticed.”

“Also possible,” Balin conceded, “but many of them are coded names. My instinct tells me it is more than that. After all, they _are_ in some sort of code. Why do that unless they are significant?"

"We will know more if we can figure out the coded names. Anything else, Balin?"

“One more thing stands out right now. The cause of death listed for many of the coded names is also the same one that appears after the name of many a dwarrowdam: ‘coumarin rose (RED).’”

Nori nodded, “Aye. Donna know what dat is. I didna find a flower called dat so I looked inter poisons, even da stuff dat donna affect us, but couldna find anythin' called dat.”

“I have never heard of it either,” said Thorin. He raised an eyebrow at Dwalin who shook his head in the negative.

“Hobbits have an affinity for plants. If it is some sort of flower perhaps Bilba would know?” suggested Balin.

Thorin frowned. He was hesitant to involve her, but logically she was a possible source for such information. “Very well,” he sighed. “You may ask her about the rose, but do not mention anything else.”

“I think _you_ should ask her,” Balin encouraged. "It would give you an excellent opportunity to talk to her one on one."

Thorin noticed that along with the sons of Fundin, Nori also wore grin.

“Not you too!” the King-in-Exile groused.

“I’d be thrilled ta call her my queen,” Nori’s grin morphed more to a smirk. “I’d wager most o’ da mountain’d celebrate having a queen again. Dere’d even be a party! A big, big one! Nothin’ ‘gainst yer ma ‘n sis, o’ course.”

“It _would_ be one less thing for the council to bother you over,” mentioned Balin.

“I said I would try after the quest!” Thorin repeated and stomped (majestically) off.

“Silly King! Ta think dat love’ll wait fer somethin’ as measly as a quest!” Nori shook his head at the departing figure.

The brothers nodded in agreement.

Dwalin took the chance to glance at the brother of his own One. He was surprised to see Nori was looking at _him_. He could not read the serious expression on the thief’s face. Dwalin hoped whatever it was was on his sister’s behalf and that it didn’t have anything to do with how much Nori had spent the last several years flirting with him whenever Dwalin had occasion to arrest him. The burly dwarf shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

The normal smirk reappeared on the thief’s face and Nori strolled off whistling.

If Balin hadn’t been experienced in controlling his reactions he would have been laughing from his belly, something his brother would not appreciate at this moment. As it was he could not keep a small chuckle from escaping.

Dwalin had complained to him more than once about Nori’s flirting, which Balin now believed was more a test than a genuine proposition. He was enjoying himself immensely at Dwalin’s and Thorin’s expense though. He knew he was living a bit vicariously through them, but he would take what he could get.

oOoOoOo

Nori was better at seeing what was what than most people gave him credit for. He was usually underestimated period, and in most cases, that is how he liked it. In fact, he _encouraged_ it.

The way he spoke often gave others the impression that he was stupid or, at the very, least uneducated. Quite the opposite was true. He was actually extremely intelligent. He just did it to fit in with the shadier sorts and because it annoyed Dori.

But mostly to annoy Dori.

Sometime ago Nori had noticed that Ori’s eye had more and more often been drawn to a certain brawny captain of the guard so he set himself the task of seeing if Dwalin was worthy of his nan’ith [younger sister].

All the times he’d been arrested by the gruff dwarf (and he always made sure it was Dwalin that arrested him) hadn’t been because Nori was bad at what he did. No! It was all intentional!

The sneaky thief had used the opportunity to test Dwalin in as many ways as he could think of, including a lot of flirting. Definitely enough to convey, without actually saying the words, a willingness to trade sexual favors in exchange for doing away with all the ‘arresting’ nonsense.

Less paperwork that way.

Nori knew some of the guards would have taken him up on it, but Dwalin never even considered it. If he had considered anything it was probably punching the thief in the nose!

In the end, Nori was satisfied that Dwalin was an honorable dwarf. If he ever opened his eyes and returned Ori’s affections he could make her happy. That was what Nori wanted for his nan’ith [younger sister].

It was beginning to look like that might be possible now. Dwalin might even someday soon even work up his aznagu [courage] and confess it.

Nori sighed to himself.

That would mean convincing Dori. Not a task he was looking forward to, but for his nan’ith’s [younger sister’s] happiness, there was very, very little he would not do.

oOoOoOo

Two days after cutting Bilba's hair Elladan and Elrohir were ready to depart on the first stage of their punishment. An oiled, water resistant scroll case containing all the company’s letters was the last thing their father handed to them. Farewells completed, they mounted their horses and set off.

Elrond watched as his sons departed the valley and headed west towards Ered Luin.

At 2796 years old Elladan and Elrohir were not truly young, not in years. They were instead young in spirit. To humans they may seem more like those in their twenties that still retain some of their mischievousness and their elders still often see them as the 'teenagers' they once were. As Elrond was their father, he supposed he would always look at them as young in some way. He suspected Thorin Oakenshield faced a similar situation with his own nephews.

No one that had seen them do so could deny that the twins were fierce fighters. They had spent the last four-hundred years hunting orcs in retaliation for what had been done to their mother.

Elrond felt a pang at the thought of his wife.

He had been able to heal Celebrian’s body from the horrors the orcs had inflicted on her, but it was not enough. He could not heal her mind and spirit, and, though she had not relished being parted from her husband and children, she had had to sail west to Valinor.

Dark times were coming.

The Lord of Imladris knew he could not keep his children shut away somewhere safe, as he sometimes wished. They must follow their own paths, and he had to let them. At least his sons had chosen to slaughter orcs, and had not fallen in love with a human like Arwen had. Aragorn was an honorable man, but nothing could change the fact that he was mortal.

Elrond believed the agreement he had made with the Dwarf Lord would keep his sons out of the battle he could see on the horizon. He just hoped he had not placed them in situation that was worse.

oOoOoOo

Bilba had a good time helping Bombur prepare the first batch of cram for their journey. They were not surprised to be joined by Arwen and her handmaidens. They wanted to make the most of the time Bilba had left in Imladris.

“More than two-thousand years ago my brothers were forbidden from entering the kitchens,” Arwen told the hobbit as they were mixing dough. “Their banishment still stands to this day.”

“What did they _do?”_ Bilba gasped. What could they possibly have done to be banished for so long?!

Arwen smiled mischievously.

“Come on! Spill!” Bilba coaxed.

The elf-maid laughed and shook her head.

“You can’t mention that kind of information without also sharing the story behind it!” Bilba pressed.

Bombur too was eager to hear the tale. He focused on his work to make it look like he wasn’t listening, but no one was fooled.

“Ask Glorfindel,” was the only response Arwen would give.

oOoOoOo

Lord Elrond was sitting with the other members of the White Council that still remained in his home. Cirdan had already departed several days ago.

“I still fear Thorin Oakenshield is not ready to assume such a task,” voiced the Elf Lord.

“We must teach him and in time teach the rulers of other peoples the same,” the mother of his wife insisted. “Long have we watched for darkness spreading through Middle Earth. We have neglected to remember the mortals will need to take over the duty when we leave. They are not in a position to do so at this time. We have begun preparations for our departure. What have we done to prepare the other races?”

“But it is not too late!” assured Gandalf. “We still have time to reforge the old alliances.”

“I will admit, your experiment with the Dwarf Lord is demonstrating surprising success as an initial attempt to gain his trust and teach him to build alliances outside his race, even with my sons offending him,” Elrond granted.

At that moment his steward entered the room.

“Excuse me, My Lord. The sentries have spotted someone entering the valley,” Erestor said.

“Another visitor? It seems Imladris is very popular this month,” the Elf Lord announced to his companions. To his steward he asked, “Could they tell our new guest’s identity?”

Erestor told them who the single rider appeared to be.

The group was dismayed by the information.

“We must act quickly,” Lady Galadriel declared.

“Now,” cautioned Elrond, “we should give him the benefit of the doubt and listen to what he has to say.”

“Precautions must still be taken,” countered Galadriel.

“I wonder what motivated him to make the journey?” Glorfindel pointedly asked the Lady of Lothlorien. “After all, he was not interested before.”

“That will, no doubt, be answered when he gets here,” responded Gandalf. “First, we have to decide what to do, then inform Thorin Oakenshield.”

oOoOoOo

Thorin was in the smithy helping Dwalin finish the hair beads for Ori when Glorfindel found him.

“Excuse me, Master Oakenshield! May I have a word, please?” the blonde asked insistently.

Thorin nodded and gestured to the door.

“What is it?” the dwarf asked once they were outside.

“Lord Elrond has asked me to relay a message to you. You and your company must pack your things and leave as soon as possible!”

“Why?” demanded Thorin. “What have we done to be asked to leave so abruptly?”

“Forgive me! It is not like that at all!” Glorfindel apologized. “Saruman has been spotted entering the valley! He will be here soon. My Lord may even now be greeting him. No doubt the wizard is here to try to stop you. We shall hold a meeting of the White Council to distract him, maybe even obtain some information from him, but you must depart! Supplies are being prepared for you, and Mithrandir and I will catch up as soon as we can. Luckily Cirdan has already departed to contact his steward. We do not know how long Saruman will delay us.”

The blonde handed him a parcel wrapped in oiled leather.

“This was recommended by Lady Galadriel.”

“What is it?” questioned the dwarf.

“It is a book about telepathic communication and mental defenses," Glorfindel explained. "We are aware dwarves have a natural resistance to outside mental influence, but without actual barriers in your mind we can not risk you or anyone aware of our plans to meet with the White Wizard.”

“Does that mean _you_ lot have digging around in my head?!” Thorin narrowed his eyes at the elf.

“No!” Glorfindel shook his head horrified. “That would be beyond rude to do without your permission!”

Thorin gave the elf a deeply skeptical look.

“With your natural resistance I would be very surprise if you would be unable to feel that kind of forceful intrusion on your mind. It would most likely damage it as well. If Saruman has truly turned against us I doubt manners would keep him from seeking information from you. Lady Galadriel says you often think loudly anyways."

Pride pricked, the Dwarf King crossed his arms and let out a disgruntled grunt.

"I regret that we did not think of this before so that Lady Galadriel could give you personal instruction. I am willing to teach you what I can while we travel together,” Glorfindel offered.

“That is a generous offer,” Thorin said neutrally. The instruction might be useful after all. The book would probably give him a better idea.

"Now, hurry! There is no time to waste!” spurred Glorfindel. “Others will bring supplies for the journey to your company shortly."

Thorin nodded in understanding. He returned to the smithy to tell his friend it was time to leave.

“I just finished. Go. I’ll be there in a moment,” Dwalin assured him, putting off questions until later.

Thorin hurried to return to his company.

“Pack your things!" he ordered as he stepped into the common area of their suite. "We are going!”

“Huh?” was the response from several sources.

“NOW!” Thorin roared.

Everyone scrambled to do as the King-in-Exile demanded. His eyes roamed the room accounting for each member before moving to pack his own things.

It wasn’t long before Balin and Dwalin were packed and at his side.

“What is going on, laddie?”

“Unforeseen complications with a wizard,” Thorin said and told his two confidants all of what Glorfindel had informed him.

“Aye! We best keep as much distance as possible between us and the White Wizard until we know for certain where his loyalties lay.”

Dwalin nodded his agreement.

Several elves brought them sacks containing not only the batch of cram Bilba had assisted Bombur in making, but also nuts, both fresh and dried fruit, and some sort of elvish bread wrapped in leaves.

Bilba noticed Arwen and her handmaidens were among the elves, but something was off. One of Arwen's handmaidens was in one of Arwen's dresses and Arwen was in the handmaiden's normal clothing. The hobbit gave her friend a curious look, but the elf maid shook her head.

“For you, my friend, a gift from Lord Elrond,” Arwen said handing her a book.

Opening it she discovered it was a book on Sindarin and there was a note inside.

_Bilba Baggins,_

_You are welcome in my home whenever and for however long you wish._

_May you ever find friendship among the elves,_

_Elrond_

_Lord of Imladris_

“Thank you!” Bilba exclaimed hugging the book to her chest.

“If you wish, my brothers can help you learn our language when they return to serve you."

"I'd like that very much!"

Farewells made, the dwarves breathed a sigh of relief. At last it was time to depart from this city of elves.

oOoOoOo

_‘Fool! Thorin Oakenshield must be stopped! Do all in your power to hinder the dwarves before they interfere in our plans. You must still play your part, Wizard!’_

_‘Yes, My Lord,’ Saruman answered, hiding his rising anger._

The wizard had seethed about his latest communication with Sauron the entire journey to Rivendell. To think that _he_ , Saruman the White, had to take orders from an entity that was now so weak that he had only just been able to reform any semblance body for himself.

This errand was a waste of his time. He had too much to do in Isengard. That orc, whatever its name is, was already charged with disposing of the dwarves. But, as the Dark Lord had said, he must play his part.

 _‘Especially,’_ Saruman reminded himself, _‘if he was to obtain the Ring of Power for himself.’_

oOoOoOo


	24. Into Thorin's Halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> The reason for the guards’ hair has been vaguely mentioned in a previous chapter. Kudos if you can guess what happened. It will be explained more fully in a later chapter.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I really appreciate them!
> 
> This chapter has been given a read through by Wolveyaon, but all mistakes are mine.

oOoOoOo

Strider had never had a reason to go to the Dwarven city in the Blue Mountains himself before. Several other Rangers had, so he knew not to expect a particularly warm welcome. He also didn’t expect that finding the information he needed would be easy, given the dwarves’ suspicion of outsiders.

Thorin’s Halls were built in the ruins of Belegost, a dwarven city that had been destroyed in the War of Wrath during the First Age, Strider knew. Like most dwarven settlements, it had once been contained completely inside the mountain, but the damage the war had wrought had left part of the city open to the outside world. The many levels of buildings formed of stone, one on top of the other, had still had enough of an outcrop of the mountain above to keep out much of the weather, but the dwarves had had to clear the city of many wild animals when they had settled there.

The dwarves of Erebor had constructed miles of tiered wall to enclose the city once more, including what was now the Main Gate into the city. The tiers had been constructed one by one, each being complete before the next was begun. The first tier of the wall had been a high priority when Thrain had settled his people here, and had been one of the first projects taken on. Once that first level of security had been complete, some workers and resources were allotted to other tasks. As Thorin had mentioned to Bilba once, construction on the wall had been balanced with the work that needed to be done inside, working the active mines, and trying to clear the old blocked mines. It had, therefore, taken many more years to fully enclose the city once more than it would have otherwise.

It was not at the Main Gate that Strider was first stopped however. His first encounter was with a dwarven patrol on the road. They had only let him proceed when he was able to assure them the group he was seeking were not accused of any wrongdoing with authorities elsewhere.

The delay with the guards at the gate was proceeding much as the Ranger had expected. When he arrived he was taken to a room inside the guard house just inside the gate. He explained his task to one guard who told him he would look into it. Several hours later he had to explain it again to the previous guard’s superior who told him the same thing. After a few more hours the cycle repeated with the next highest guard in rank. So it was not until the day after arriving to the gates that he met a broad dwarf wearing an ornate version of the plate armor the other guards he had met had worn.

“I am Captain Delvar. I am the Head of the Guard in Ered Luin. Tell me who ye are and what ye want in Thorin’s Halls.”

There was one thing that surprised Aragorn about this dwarf and several of the other guards he saw moving in and out of the guard house. Delvar’s hair was only several inches long and stood straight up from his head and formed a sort of spiked flat top, but his beard was long enough to be tucked into his belt. Some of the others had short hair on top of their heads but long beards, like Delvar. Some had long hair, but little beard to speak of. Some didn’t have much of either. It was curious, because it was very different from everything he had ever heard about dwarves.

“I am a Ranger of the North known as Strider,” he answered. “I came here seeking a group of thirteen dwarves or information of their whereabouts. They visited the Shire and the town of Bree several months ago. I have physical descriptions of all thirteen, but only three names: Ori, Nori, and Bifur.”

“Why are ye lookin’ fer these dwarves?” Delvar asked.

“They travel with two other companions, a hobbit of the Shire and Gandalf the Grey. It is primarily these two I seek,” Strider informed him. “I am charged with delivering important messages to them, though there is a letter for one of the dwarves as well.”

“Tharkun you say?” the dwarf said intently.

“Yes. Do you know of the group I seek?”

“Perhaps,” Delvar responded thoughtfully. “Give me the descriptions ye have.”

The Ranger did.

“Wait here,” the dwarf ordered and left.

That was the most interest any of the dwarves had shown in his task. Aragorn mentally berated himself for a moment for not mentioning the wizard earlier.

Nearly two hours after he had abruptly departed Delvar returned with a complement of guards that escorted Aragorn further into the city.

The area they lead him to was the the nicest he had seen inside so far. All the walls looked to be intact from the original construction of the city and there were more ornamented trimmings. It would seem he was being taken to speak with someone important. Perhaps someone important enough to help him find the information he was asking for.

Strider was lead through a gilded set of double doors into a long waiting hall. The area just inside held a few benches, chairs, and small side tables. Further in there were aids industriously working at their desks. There were two doors on each side wall, and at the far end of the room was another gilded door.

When the guards stopped in the seating area and ordered him to disarm Aragorn knew he was going to be speaking to someone much more significant than he had been anticipating on this trip.

Reluctantly Strider handed over sword, knife, bow, and quiver. Once the dwarves were satisfied that he bore no more weapons they led him to the last door on the right. Four guards stood at attention, two on each side of the door. Captain Delvar knocked on the door, and entered first when called. Aragorn followed behind accompanied in by the other guards that had come with them.

Inside he found a dwarf seated behind a large desk covered with organized piles of parchment and scrolls. A second dwarf stood at the left of the first. This dwarf had rich golden hair, while the seated dwarf’s white hair still had a few colored strands that suggested it had once been a similar shade.

Each dwarf wore finely made robes. Their hair was elaborately styled around their heads. They also wore the most jewelry Aragorn had ever seen in one place. There were gems on their fingers, gold cuffs on their arms, and strands of gold and precious gems in their hair. Their ears were pierced in several places, and if those really were diamonds glinting on their left nostrils then their noses must be pierced as well.

Strider would be the first to admit he was no expert on dwarves, but he would wager these two were _female_. That would surely account for the precautions the guards were taking.

“The Ranger known as Strider, yer Highnesses,” Delvar announced.

 _‘Highnesses?’_ Definitely more important than he had expected to meet but considering who is involved he probably should have. _‘What have you gotten involved in this time, Gandalf?’_

“Ye stand before Princess Nis, Regent of Thorin’s Halls, and her daughter Princess Dis,” Delvar told him.

 _‘Regent? Curious,’_ Aragorn thought. As far as he knew their leader was supposed to be a king-in-exile. _‘I wonder what happened to him?’_

“An unexpected honor, your Highnesses,” Strider bowed. “I had not anticipated meeting anyone of your consequence over the simple matter of delivering some letters.”

“We doubt any communique to Tharkun would be considered ‘simple,’ especially if the messenger is a Ranger of the North,” Princess Nis said.

“The missives I carry tell of significant events in the Shire. Gandalf is fond of the hobbits and so takes a special interest in them. I doubt the news will impact many beyond its borders,” Strider replied.

“We do trade with the Shire. Significant events there may indeed affect my people,” Nis countered. “Perhaps you should tell us your tale and let us decide if we can help you.”

Once more, Strider recounted the information about the group of dwarves and their descriptions. This time he also included what he knew of Bilba’s story, how one of the dwarves saved her from harm, her leaving with them and how that sparked the change the Thain made to the rights females possessed in the Shire.

“It pleases us to hear the hobbits will now consider females equal to males. We will provide you with food and lodging while we look into the matter of Tharkun and those who might travel with him,” Princess Nis offered. “As a precaution an escort will be assigned to you while you are within the mountain. We ask that you do not venture about without him. If he informs you that a place is out of bounds please respect that.”

“As you wish. I thank you for your generosity,” Strider bowed and followed the guard captain out of the office.

After the door closed the mother and daughter remained silent for a few more moments.

“I’m going to smash my hammer over his stupid head!” Dis burst out once she was confident they would not be overheard.

“Now, now. Calm down,” Nis counseled her daughter. “You would not want to accidentally kill him. Fili is not yet ready to be king. Besides,” she added, “I am his mother. I get first crack at his thick skull.”

“I argued with Thorin for months to go with him, and now not only has he taken Ori along with him but some soft little hobbit lass too! It is not as if you _need_ me to help you run the mountain!” seethed Dis.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. It is, however, a relief to have you with me. So, yes, I do believe I will be selfish and not regret that you have stayed here where it is safe.”

Dis immediately felt guilty. Her mother had already lost so many of her kin, and she knew Nis worried constantly about Thorin, Fili, and Kili.

“I do not regret being here for you, Amad [Mother]. It’s just… I knew those thick-headed numbskulls would do something foolish, but I thought it would be something stupid that would get _themselves_ killed not someone else. Have they no common sense?!”

“If this Bilba Baggins became involved because of the wizard, they may not have had much of a choice.”

“Maybe,” the younger dwarf reluctantly agreed. “But if this does damage trade with the Shire, then, king or no, I _am_ going to break his nose.”

“You may do that after I have turned him over my knee. I do not want him to bleed on my clothes,” Nis grinned.

“What are we going to tell the Ranger?” asked Dis. “It is not common knowledge among the council, let alone our people, where Thorin is off to.”

“We will have him watched for a day or two to find out how appropriate he acts in the mountain. I have instructed Delvar to assign Horan and Nenar as escorts,” Nis said.

Dis let out a bark of laughter. “That is cruel, Amad! Strider isn’t going to get any sleep tonight. He’ll be too afraid Horan is going to kill him!”

“Dein will relieve Horan around noon tomorrow.”

Dis laughed again. Horan and Dein were complete opposites. Where Horan was paranoid and reticent about outsiders Dein was friendly and curious.

“Nenar is there to observe. I want to know how the Ranger’s reacts to his escorts. Right now, we have some families to notify that their loved ones have not yet gotten themselves killed. Do you wish to speak with Gloin’s wife or Bombur’s?”

“Bombur’s,” replied Dis.

“All those little ones,” Nis smiled. “Not already dreaming of grandchildren of your own are you?”

“No!” Dis shuddered. “My sons have yet to finish growing up all the way themselves. The thought of them being responsible for a young life like that is terrifying!”

Nis laughed a little wistfully.

Dis placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder in concern. Nis patted her hand.

“When I was blessed with three children of my own I had hoped for more grandchildren to spoil. Not that your sons are lacking, ‘Ibinu ame [Gem of mine]. I would not trade them for others!”

“I know, Amad. They certainly keep life interesting,” chuckled Dis. “I still hold out hope that Thorin will find his One and give me a niece or nephew.”

“Stubborn khuzd [dwarf],” Nis huffed. “He should have taken a wife a century ago at least! He is lucky you had sons to be his heirs.”

“I can not fault him for waiting for his One,” objected Dis. “Just because every arranged marriage in the Royal Lines has worked out so far it doesn’t mean they all will. Not everyone can be as lucky as your parents were to find their One in each other.”

Nis’ mother had been a princess of the Blacklock clan who lived in the Orocarni Mountains far, far to the east. The betrothed couple met for the first time about a month before their arranged wedding was to take place. Both had been shocked to recognized the other as their One when, quite frankly, they had expected to be in a miserably cold marriage.

Even Thrain and Nis’ own marriage had been partially arranged the way their fathers had told the story.

Thror had wanted his son to marry, so large numbers of eligible dwarrowdams had been paraded before the prince in hopes that he would agree to marry one of them.

Despite her father being the Head of the Firebeards clan and serving on Thror’s council in Erebor, Nis had spent most of her younger years elsewhere. At a young age, much younger than One’s usually recognize each other, she had been offered an apprenticeship with the finest silversmith in all of the seven dwarf clans. He was a master that worked in the Iron Hills and ‘No, he wasn’t going to move from his home just for one student.’

Nis quickly returned from the Iron Hills after finishing her apprenticeship because of a mysterious urging from her father to hurry. (He had wanted his daughter to marry the prince, of course!) The very day she arrived at Erebor she had only gotten as far as the stables, a short distance from the gate, before she encountered Thrain.

The prince had tired of his father practically throwing potential partners at him and had made an escape to hide among the ponies and battle rams.

Thrain and Nis had stood staring at one another for several minutes. They had been frozen even as the bustle of the stable continued. Those who took the time to notice the two had recognized the signs and smiled as they continued their tasks.

 _‘Here,’_ the others had smiled to themselves, _‘were two young finding their One’s in each other.’_

The dwarrow before her had finally broke their personal silence with, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she had breathed, then laughed. “We do not even know each other’s names! Nis daughter of Gis, at your service.”

“You are Ragnar’s daughter?” he had asked looking surprisingly relieved. “It should not be too difficult to get our families’ approval then. Thrain son of Thror, at your service,” he bowed.

They had married before the end of the year, a short span of time for a royal heir.

Thror and Ragnar had both claimed the credit because their actions had brought their children together.

“Aye,” Nis said drawing her attention back from her memories. “We have been fortunate to find our One’s haven’t we.”

They shared a sad look.

Yes, they had been lucky enough to find their One’s, but they had had so little time with them. Nis’ heart ached every time she remembered that of the hundred-sixty-six years her daughter had spent in this world she had had less than ten years with her beloved Vili.

“Now, we have some families to go see. Mylin and the dwarflings will be happy to see you,” Nis said, shaking herself out of her melancholy.

“I’m sure Tawni will be happy to hear something besides Gimli’s sulks about not being allowed to go with Gloin,” Dis returned.

Mother and daughter left the office and went their separate ways, each accompanied by their own pair of guards.

oOoOoOo


	25. The Amrad Babanal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> It has been a long time since my last update, I know! I'm sorry! This isn't the chapter I had planned for next, but that still isn't ready yet. So I wrote this for you because I wanted to get something up. 
> 
> Thanks again to Wolveyaon for the read through. Mistakes are all mine.

oOoOoOo

Two dwarves met secretly in a dark alcove. It was several tiers above the Entrance Hall just inside the Main Gate and had a good view of both it and the guardhouse.

“Yes, my Lord?” one bowed to the other.

“There is someone I need you to watch for,” the masked dwarf spoke in a rough voice meant to disguise his normal voice. “I want him 'dealt' with,” he ordered. “I don’t care if you do it yourself or arrange an opportunity for one of the others, just make sure he is silenced quickly and discreetly. He can not be given the chance to speak with anyone!”

“It will be done, my Lord” the dwarf bowed again after hearing the details of his target. "I have some other information ye might be interested in."

"Out with it," the masked dwarf snapped impatiently.

"O' course, my Lord. A Man is in the mountain, one o’ those Rangers. I’ve been assigned to escort ‘im during his time here."

"Is that so? Do you have any idea why he is here?" rasped a mask dwarf.

"No, but I do know he was taken to meet with Princesses Nis and Dis. Should I find a way to... deal with him too?" he asked eagerly, fingering a weapon at his hip. "I could arrange it look like he was a danger to the mountain and I was forced to kill him."

Behind the mask the dwarf’s eyes narrowed.

"No. I do not want you to draw that sort of attention to yourself unnecessarily. I want to know what he is doing here. After that," the masked dwarf shrugged, "we shall see."

"As ye wish, my Lord," the disappointed dwarf sighed then bowed once more and left.

 _‘A Ranger of the North meeting with both of the princesses? Surely it must have something to do with our dear absentee King-in-Exile,'_ the Death Weaver thought to himself.

Maybe this would help him finally learn exactly what Thorin Oakenshield was up to. The House of Durin was being very tight lipped about what was going on.

The conspirator let himself seethe over that for a minute before pulling himself back together. He had work to do, preparations to make. If the immediate complication wasn’t taken care of, it could be disastrous for the plan. And himself.

At least the sons of Fundin were out of his way for the time being. If he could just find out more information, he might be able to arrange that to advantage to become permanent.

While Strider had been meeting with Nis and Dis in the past hour, another significant event had been taking place in the mountain. Afal, a friend of Nori’s that had once faced the King’s Judgment, had discovered not only the Amrad Babanal’s treachery, but also his identity.

The thief had done several jobs for the Death Weaver, mostly replacing official documents with doctored copies like this latest job had been. He’d thought it was mostly about manipulating the politics in the mountain, and the few deaths he’d heard about were done to protect the sovereignty of Durin’s Folk. He now knew that that wasn’t so.

Afal had known he was hardly a pillar of society. He had made his living by taking advantage of others, after all. That didn’t change the fact that, when it came down to it, he loved his people and was proud to be a dwarf.

Unfortunately for him, the treasonous dwarf knew that Afal had discovered his objective as well. This began a desperate race from the partially flooded lower levels, where shady business was sometimes conducted, up towards the used levels. The intrepid would-be whistleblower had scrambled to inform the Guard, and the Amrad Babanal had charged after him.

The pursuer had caught up to his prey on the stairs before he had reached the populated levels above. Both dwarves had fought fiercely. When the Amrad Babanal had smashed Afal’s head between the thick metal of his heavy mask held in his left hand and head of the mace in his right, there had been a sharp cracking sound. Disoriented, the thief had staggered back and fallen over the railing.

The Death Weaver had heard the thud of the violent landing, but after his rush back down the many flights of stairs he hadn’t found the body of the would-be snitch where it should have been.

The Amrad Babanal had roared with rage. Swearing, he’d swung his hammer and struck the wall, cracking the smooth surface.

There had been several ways the thief could have escaped. He wouldn’t be able to search them all by himself.

Afal was gone.

oOoOoOo


	26. Girls' Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> Sorry it has been so long! I got a new job and moved in the last two months, so real life has been busy!
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos! A special thank you to BlackHreat for giving me a poke or two to get this done.

oOoOoOo

Followed by her two guards, Dis made her way towards the residence of Bombur’s family. She’d come to enjoy the company of Mylin and her cousin, Tola, since the departure of the Company.

Tola had moved in while Bombur was gone to help Mylin with the three children and prepare for the birth of the fourth.

Dis’ duties didn’t allow her to visit with the dwarrowdams and dwarflings as often as she would like, and even though she was looking forward to spending time with her friends, she was upset during the journey.

No matter what reason Thorin or Tharkun had for taking a hobbit along with them, if it caused an interruption in her jam supply there would be bloodshed.

The Hobbits called it 'Amber Queen' and its limited yield came _only_ from the Shire. During their courtship Vili had made one trip with a merchant caravan that did regular trade with the Shire and Bree. He’d gone to promote his brewing house’s meads, and come back with a large order to fill and a full case of the golden nectar as a courting gift for her.

Vili had tried to get the recipe, but the one case of glass jars was the most he’d been able to talk them out of. Turns out hobbits were just as secretive about their Family Recipes as dwarves could be about, well, nearly everything. The fussy little hobbit he had traded with wouldn't even say what the jam was made of!

Dis’ steps nearly faltered as another item procured from the Shire crossed her mind - the selection of teas her mother used. Some were kept for special occasions, but Nis got down right cross if she didn’t get tea daily. Dis shuddered at the thought.

There were many other supplies vital to the mountain that their merchants traded the Hobbits for besides her jam and her mother’s tea. Honey, preserved fruit and vegetables just to name a few. The dwarves may grind their own flour and meal, but the wheat and corn came from the Shire as well.

Dwarves weren’t farmers. About the only thing they grew themselves were cave mushrooms. If the Hobbits stopped trading with the dwarves, her people would get very hungry. And thirsty. Brewers couldn’t brew without ingredients after all, and even some of those came from the Shire.

 _Mahal!_ Dis wished her nadad [brother] was with her right now. She’d love to punch him in the nose.

oOoOoOo

“I hope it’s a boy,” Mylin said. “Most hope fer a girl and I canna seem ta have a son!” the redheaded dwarrowdam laughed.

Dis had been catching up on the lives of Bombur’s red headed household for over two hours. They’d invited her to stay for dinner halfway through and she’d agreed in order to continue the visit.

Mylin had taken a break from her regular duties of teaching young dwarflings to read and write, but had already begun helping at the school taking care of the babes of mothers who were back to working their trades and crafts. She planned to do this for a year or two after giving birth which would allow her to also spend time with her own babe while she was working.

Rylin, the eldest daughter, was thirty-eight and enjoying her days as an apprentice butcher.  

Mirlin, the second eldest, was twenty-five and had been studying under her adad [father] to be a cook. Since he had left, her instruction had been taken over by Bombur’s old teacher.

Kirlin, the current youngest, was twelve and devoured the written word the way Bombur devoured food. The dwarfling read anything she could get her hands on, but oddly enough it was the law books from the library she enjoyed the most.

Mylin said her daughter hoped to join the governing body and was ecstatic to see the princess every time she stopped by. Dis had helped Kirlin obtain a position helping out at the Council Archive a few days a week after her classes were done for the day. The girl had talked about it for three quarters of an hour before her mother had sent her and her sisters to bed.

The princess intended to keep an eye on Kirlin’s progress. With her interests and perfect memory recall Dis thought she might make a fine assistant in a decade or two.

Now the two adults were relaxing in some chairs in the common room enjoying the quiet over some tea and discussing pregnancy. Myrlin had a little less than two months left of this one.

“This is something the healer gave me,” Mylin shared tipping a bottle of liquid into her cup. “It is supposed ta help me stay healthy and keep my energy up. He didna give me anythin’ like this with the others, but I do have three dwarflings ta keep track o’ on top of the pregnancy, so maybe that’s why.”

Dis winced. “How bad is it?” she asked. Healer recommended remedies were notorious for being awful.

“It tastes alright. Kind o’ sweet, actually. I’ve just never been much o’ a tea drinker, so I keep forgettin’ ta take it.”

“Speaking of keeping up your energy, where is Tola?” asked Dis.

Mylin smirked. “She is ‘out’ tonight. She has a... deal with someone. Whenever he gets a few days off in a row they get together and… well, screw like rabbits.”

“Oh? That sounds like a convenient arrangement,” laughed Dis.

“What about you?” the redhead asked. “Where is your shadow?”

“He wasn’t waiting when we left like he usually is. He must have gotten caught up in a meeting,” Dis shrugged unconcerned.

Nar had regularly been waiting outside her quarters in the morning to escort her to her office and waiting again for her at the end of the day when he stuck by her side until he saw her safely back to them. She’ gotten the feeling that with the least bit of encouragement he’d be more than willing to follow her inside to ‘guard’ her in her bed, too.

Dis would admit she’d thought about it. Thought about how nice it could be to have such a convenient lover if only it was _just_ that.

She’d found her One in Vili. Now that he was gone she had the option of finding solace with another (and she had had several partners over the years), but she could not give anyone else the emotional commitment she had given to her husband. Intimacy would only ever be about pleasure for her. She could give friendship, but nothing more.

Dis did not think that would be enough for the councilor. What had no doubt started due to guilt about the death of her irak'amad [father’s sister] now seemed to be motivated by more. Nar already clung to her side too much. She could only imagine that it would become intolerable if she welcomed him into her bed.

He also made social calls like this one awkward.

Just then there was a noise at the door. They turned to see Tola trudge in looking downcast.

“I didn’t think ye’d still be up,” Tola said to her cousin. “Oh! Hello, your Highness,” she bowed, noticing the other occupant. “How are ye this evening?”

“I am well, Tola. Thank you for asking. No need to stand on formality for me, though. I am just a dwarrowdam visiting a friend tonight.”

“What happened to your ‘date’?” Myrlin asked taking a sip of her tea.

“Horan got a new assignment at the last minute.”

Mylin choked her tea and Dis winced. She was sorry her mother had ruined Tola’s evening.

“Horan?!” Mylin exclaimed once she could speak. “That guard captain is yer… yer…”

“Ur…” Tola said glancing at the princess. Then, she shrugged and continued, ”Well, if we’re na standing on ceremony, what I’d call him is a fuckbuddy. We’re na courting or anythin’.”

“But… but isnna he a dick?” asked Mylin.

“Is that not the point?” Dis smiled.

They laughed.

“Well,” Tola said, “it’s less his dick and more his manacle collection.”

“He doesn’t... _hurt_ you does he?” Mylin asked in concern.

Tola shook her head. “Only in the pleasurable ways,” Tola joked. She continued more seriously, “It’s not about pain, but trusting your partner to bring you pleasure. We donna do the spankin’ or whippin’. Nothin’ like that. Just pleasure.”

“Sorry. I had to ask. So,” Mylin smirked, “that’s how it is, is it? You share a kink!”

“Mmh,” Tola confirmed. “ _Mahal!_ I need to get laid. What am I supposed to do? I’ve been anticipatin’ tonight fer a week, but where do I find someone _now!_ Horan and I aren’t exclusive or anything and I’m not even picky about gender. ”

“I’d be willing to wager you could walk into any tavern and say you wanted someone to chain you up and do wicked things to you and you’d find takers,” the redhead said.

Dis though that was true. With a curvier than average build and her molten silver hair and beard, Tola was quite lovely to look at.

A small smile crossed Dis’ face as an idea entered her mind.

“Who said _I_ was the one chained up?” Tola responded to her friend.

“I’d still wager you’d find takers,” Mylin said. “Wait! WHAT?! _Horan_ lets you chain _him_ up?!”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes!” exclaimed the astonished Mylin.

Dis couldn’t blame her. It was difficult to imagine Horan, captain in charge of detention, willingly letting someone else restrain him.

“How do you decide?” she inquired.

“We wrestle first,” Tola shrugged. “Winner chooses.”

“Do you wrestle naked?” Dis wondered intrigued.

“Of course,” Tola smiled back. “Foreplay!”

“How often do you win?” Dis asked.

“About half the time. We are pretty even. Though there was the one time he brought a friend. That wasn’t a fair match, but it was a fun night!”

“I didn’t know he had any friends,” commented Mylin.

“It was a surprise for me, too,” Tola confirmed, “but I had no complaints!”

“Amad!” came from the bedroom of one of the children.

“Duty calls,” Mylin sighed and struggled out of her chair.

When she was gone Dis spoke once more.

“I am afraid the Royal House has unintentionally robbed you of your companionship. Since that is the case perhaps there is something I can do to make up for it?”

“Oh?” Tola said with a sultry smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“I have a bit of a collection of my own,” Dis disclosed. “It doesn’t contain any manacles. However, it does have some very soft, very strong rope.”

“I am intrigued, by that as well as to the rest of its contents. I imagine you possess some finely crafted toys.”

“Several, yes," Dis confirmed.

“Have you ever done bondage before?”

“Oh, once or twice,” Dis supplied.

“And what does my princess desire?” Tola asked seductively. Placing her hands on the arms of the chair she leaned over the seated dwarrowdam. “Which side would you like to be on? Do you wish to remain in charge or do you wish to give up that control? Or should we wrestle for it?”

“Oh, definitely wrestle,” Dis confirmed. Physical exertion before sensual stimulation sounded exciting.

“If you lose would you let me restrain you and spend hours stroking, and tasting, and pleasuring your body and all you have to do is take it? Could you do that?” Tola wondered as she tantalizingly ran a hand down the side of Dis’ face and neck. Then the silver haired dwarrowdam brushed her fingers along the collarbone to the center of her chest and drew one finger down the breastbone to the collar of her dress.

“Yes,” breathed the blonde.

“Are you two _flirting?_ ” Mylin asked exasperated returning to the room.

“Yes,” they answered matter of factly.

“Is your collection portable?” Tola continued.

“It is,” Dis confirmed.

“Then all I need to know is if you’d prefer your place or mine?”

“Your place probably has more privacy. There are always those about in the Royal Quarters. Servants, guards, ladies-in-waiting, my mother.”

“Go have fun together while I sit here, horny and alone,” Mylin sighed.

“I remember that part of pregnancy,” Dis commiserated. “It’s fun when you husband is around. Frustrating when he isn’t.”

“You could watch,” offered Tola.

Mylin waved them off, “I’ll send one o’ the girls by with the letters tomorrow. Now shoo, you two. Take your flirting elsewhere!”

And they did.

oOoOoOo

Nis’ time with Gloin’s family wasn’t nearly as provocative as her daughter’s visit had become. The princess enjoyed a quiet chat with Tawni over a relaxing pot of tea. The peace was only broken when Gimli stomped from his room to get something then stomp back and slammed the door.

“Is he _still_ sulking about not being allowed to go with the Company?” Nis asked.

Tawni nodded. “Aye. He was doin’ better, but…” She sighed. “There’s a huntin’ party leavin’ the day after tomorrow. Gimli wants to go along, but I told him I wasna sure I wanted him ta go without his adad [father]. Now he’s back to this,” she said waving her hand in the direction of her son’s room. “I donna know. Maybe I’m bein’ too protective.”

Nis patted the other’s arm. “I understand how you feel. It is up to you, of course, whether you allow him to go or not, but I think it would be good for him. It would give him something to do for a few weeks besides stew over not going on the quest. The hunters would look out for him. He would not be alone. I believe some of them are taking sons near Gimli’s age as well.”

“Perhaps yer right. I’ll think about it.”

“Then I will bid you good evening. I will send someone to pick up any letters tomorrow afternoon.”

“Now I get ta see how Gimli handles bein’ told he can send a letter ta the adad [father] he wasna allowed ta travel with,” Tawni said with a half smile.

“He will get over it. Eventually.”

The two mothers shared a look of exasperated amusement.

“I thank ye fer comin’ by, an’ a good evenin’ to ye as well,” Tawni said as she saw the princess out the door.

With a nod, Nis departed. The two guards that had been waiting outside formed up behind and followed their princess back to the Royal Quarters.

oOoOoOo


	27. Back at the Guardhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best person to send to kill a dwarf is another dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left comments, kudos, followed, or bookmarked! Sorry it has been so long. Real Life has been very draining.
> 
> Not beta’d.

oOoOoOo

Once more two dwarves met in the darkened alcove across from the guard house.

"My Lord," one bowed to the other, "We must hurry. I was able ta slip away because o' the commotion, but I have ta get back before I am missed."

"It is because of the commotion I sent for you. Has he said anything? What is he saying?” the masked dwarf demanded.

“Nothing, my Lord!” he assured. “Well, he’s spewing a lot o’ babble but none o’ it makes any sense. A healer has been sent for to check him over.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s been put in one o’ the holdin’ cells. At least ye know where he is now.”

“Find a way to end him _now_ , before he damages our work!” the masked dwarf ordered.

“O’ course, my Lord.”

“I want it done before the healer arrives, but remember to do it quietly. Secrecy is still necessary for us.”

“As ye command,” the dwarf bowed and set off on his task.

oOoOoOo

After leaving the princesses the accompaniment of guards, lead by Captain Delvar, took Strider back to the guardhouse. There seemed to have have been some sort of commotion while they were gone. Some of the guards were righting turned over tables and chairs while others were picking up scattered cups, parchment, and a helmet or two.

Captain Delvar moved off to talk to them, but signaled for Strider to be lead back to the same room in which he had previously waited. Here he was introduced to his first escort.

Nenar was a very serious, scholarly looking dwarf with long silver hair. He was dressed in a sleeveless black robe edged in silver embroidery over dark grey short sleeved tunic and trousers. A satchel full of scrolls was slung across his torso. There were three metal tipped dip pens, two graphite sticks, a quill, and an ink brush sticking out of his hair and beard. It might have been haphazard in other circumstances, but on this dwarf it was very precise and organized. Aragorn wouldn't be surprised if he used some sort of measuring instrument to put each in its place.

Nenar lead Aragorn back out to look for his other escort.

“There you are,” Nenar said to a disgruntled looking dwarf heading their way. “You are late.”

“I’m busy,” he growled. He was broad shouldered even compared to the other dwarves Aragorn had seen. His long black hair and beard were twisted into several braids and bound by metal beads that clanked gently against his armor as he moved and he bore a sharp axes on each hip.

Nenar introduced him as Horan.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Aragorn gave him a short bow.

Raising his gaze to the tall Ranger, Horan’s expression darkened further. “Doubtful,” he spat.

“Horan is a captain of the guard,” Nenar offered.

"Forgive me,” Strider said confused. “I thought Delvar was the captain."

It turns out when he had introduced himself to Strider as the head of the guard Delvar had meant he was the Head of the Guard, as in the Head Captain of the entire Guard. Horan was one of a number of captains that served directly under him.

“My primary responsibilities as a captain o’ the guard is ta oversee the dungeon and all other detention areas. Now, what are we supposed ta do with ye?” grumbled Horan.

“I would be honored to see any of the mountain you think would be appropriate,” offered Strider.

The guard captain raised an eyebrow. “Oh, ye’d be honored would ye?” he said sarcastically, but lead him down the hall.

oOoOoOo

Horan’s concept of what was appropriate for him to see left much to be desired in Aragorn’s opinion. Their first stop on the ‘tour’ was the holding area that consisted of multiple cells on each side of the hallway.

Strider glanced into the first cell as they passed. Though he was told this area was for temporary incarcerations it contained everyday personal items, as if it was regularly used by one prisoner, though it was currently unoccupied. From the noise however Strider could tell that some of them further down were.

Nearby there was a semi rhythmic clacking sound. Looking into the next cell he found the source. A dwarf sat on the floor leaning against one of the side walls as over and over he threw a chunk of rock at the opposite wall with enough force that it skittered back to him after hitting the floor.

Somewhere further down another voice was making noises Aragorn wasn’t sure how to categorize. It might be called singing very loudly, and _very_ off key, but was probably closer to rhythmic shouting. He could not understand any of the words.

Multiple raised voices were making a valiant (but vain) effort to drown out the sound.

Continuing down the hallway it was discovered that the shouting had more than one catalyst. One prisoner and a guard were yelling at the ‘singer’ trying to convince him to stop. Two others were yelling at each other. There was an empty cell between them, but that didn’t stop them from thrusting arms out of their cells to try to grasp the other across the gap.

Horan roared for silence. This stopped all the shouters but not the ‘singer’. With the other noise gone Aragorn could tell it wasn’t any language he’d ever heard. More like nonsense words, but the dwarf was obviously distressed, and there was something that seemed very off to the Ranger. By the condition of his clothes and marks on his face it was obvious the dwarf had been involved in a major altercation. He also kept alternating between clutching his head and reaching out through the bars like he was pleading with the guard standing there.

“Make ‘im stop Cap’n,” begged one prisoner.

“He’s still no’ said anythin’ intelligible,” said the new guard. “What in Mahal’s name is wrong with him?!”

“SHUT. YER. YAP!” the prisoner across from the singer snapped and threw an empty food plate across the hall. Who ever the prisoner was, he had great aim. The plate sailed through the bars of the singer’s cell and struck him in the head. Unfortunately all it did was cause him to stutter on the one word before continuing on with his ‘song’ that even the other dwarves couldn’t understand.

“An hour listenin’ ta ‘im should count as a full day in this cell at least!” another prisoner put in, to much agreement from the others.

“I should get hazard pay fer listenin’,” grumbled the guard.

“It sounds like he’s stranglin’ a mule!” added someone else.

“Maybe it’ll motivate ye ta obey the law!” Horan shouted back.

Back from the direction they had entered a new sound joined the commotion. Turning they saw a copper haired guard supporting an obviously heavily drunk dark haired dwarf that was singing what sounded like what could be a funeral song in the dwarf language.

The guard that had been arguing with the incoherent prisoner moved to join the two. When he was close enough the drunk roared and tried to throw a punch at him. The guard dodged and the redhead pulled the completely smashed dwarf back. They scuffled with each other for a few moments until the other guard unlocked the first cell that had held all the personal items. Then the two guards pushed the plastered dwarf inside. They got the door shut just before the inebriated dwarf slammed himself against it. He yelled angrily in dwarvish then went back to his slurred singing and retreated back into his cell.

“Nili got chucked out o’ da tavern early tonight,” the redhead stated as the guards joined their group. “I offered ta bring him down.”

“Anniversary o’ his brother’s death is coming up,” Nenar said. “He’s always worse around this time o’ year.”

“Aye,” agreed Horan shaking his head in mix of pity and disgust. “This is Dein. He gets the pleasure o’ yer company tomorrow,” Horan introduced the redhead snidely.

“Pleasure ta meet ye,” smiled the newcomer.

“Likewise,” said Aragorn.

“Don’t let him kill ya tonight,” Dein said jerking a thumb at glowering Horan. “I got some fun in mind fer us tomorrow.”

The Ranger responded with a nod not knowing how serious to take the dwarf’s words. “What are they all in here for?” he asked.

“This one,” the unnamed guard said pointing to the one shouting disjointedly, “Afal ‘is name is, entered the guardhouse looking like this a little while ago shoutin’ that gibberish while brandishin’ a weapon. No one was injured, but there is obviously somethin’ wrong with ‘im. We locked him up so he donna have the chance ta hurt anyone.”

“These four fools,” he said gesturing to the two who had been trying to reach each other through the bars and the other detainees that had been here when Strider had arrived, “are in ‘ere for major property damage.”

“We get a lot o’ barroom fights here. Ye might say it’s a form o’ entertainment for us. To a certain extent, anyway,” the redhead said with a shrug. “However, two o’ these idiots managed ta destroy the tavern’s entire storeroom with their feud and they donna even have the excuse o’ being drunk at the time. The other two got involved in the brawl somewhere along the way.”

“They will spend several days here until the value of the damage is assessed and the amount of restitution and fines they have to pay is calculated,” Nenar informed him.

“Nili, well…” said the other guard, “I donna think Nili has been sober by choice since ‘is brother died ‘n ‘e can get pretty mean, so ‘e spends ‘is nights ‘ere.”

Strider nodded in understanding.

“So, what are ye gonna do about Afal?” Dein asked the guard captain. “This racket’s gonna drive everyone insane.”

To the unnamed guard Horan said, “Take our new songbird down ta a solitary cell. The noise shouldn’t travel as far n’ the healer can see him just as well down there as up here.”

Afal could hear what they were saying but he didn’t understand why they couldn’t understand him. He was speaking plain Westron.

He grasped his head. He was in horrible pain, but they were in danger, everyone, down to the last dwarf!

When the guard unlocked his cell to move him elsewhere, Afal lunged at the Horan, desperate to somehow tell them what he knew. Unfortunately this gave the agent his opportunity.

Not knowing what the thief was doing, the four dwarves converged on Afal to restrain him. During the scuffle the agent struck. Dein and the other guard got the now subdued prisoner to his feet though he could no longer remain that way on his own.

“I have some skill as a healer. I could take a look at him if you like,” Strider offered.

“We’ll wait for our own healer,” Horan sneered. “Take him,” he ordered the guard. With Dein’s help Afal was taken away.

Aragorn watched on with pity for the injured prisoner.

Even if the Ranger had been permitted to examine Afal, the poor dwarf had already been beyond Aragorn’s aid when they had arrived. Between the fight with the Amrad Babanal and the fall at its conclusion something had broken inside the thief's head. He would have been dead in a few hours. Now after the actions of the Death Weaver’s agent Afal had only a few minutes left to live.

The thief would never be able to tell anyone what he had learned. However, even in death Afal would still have one clue to share that would show that not all was as it should be inside Thorin’s Hall.

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone that spotted Dis’ brother-in-law :)


	28. A Bad Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> I posted it several months ago but for anyone interested that hasn’t read it yet the explicit Bilba/Ori scene from Chapter 20 it can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6045901).
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions!

oOoOoOo

Horan’s tour destinations did not improve after leaving the temporary holding area. Strider was lead through three thick doors that were locked and guarded and had a hallway and twisting flight of stairs beyond each. Beyond the last of these he was shown the first level of the dungeon. Aragorn was given an offer to take a closer look inside an empty cell.

Nenar, who had been mostly quiet during the tour, signed something to guard captain in their hand language.

/Princess not amused if lock him up, even when make our job easy.\

/My fault fool man shut himself in cell with broken lock?\ Horan grinned.

/IS lock broken?!\

Horan shrugged.

Even without being able to understand the signs the dwarves made at one another the Ranger wisely declined the offer.

Horan was disappointed.

After that the small group returned to main part of the guardhouse where Horan showed him the interrogation/interview rooms (Strider had already spent most of two days in one, thank you) before ending in Horan’s office.

Horan grudgingly gave Strider permission to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Before his body even touched the seat the guardsman started to interrogate him on the purpose of his visit. Interrogate really was the best word for it, but the Ranger swallowed a sigh and shared his tale once more.

During the interrogation Aragorn took the opportunity to examine the items on the walls, and came to the conclusion that this was the oddest office he’d ever visited. While it was more interesting than any of the other places Horan had shown him it was no more warm or welcoming.

There were weapons and shields here and there as expected in the office of a professional dwarven warrior, but most of the decor consisted of pairs upon pairs of restraints.

There were manacles of different types, sizes, and materials. Some were plain and some had ornate scrollwork. There were even some that were padded to protect the wrists of the person restrained.

In one corner was a dummy that displayed a set that had cuffs for both hands and feet as well as a thick collar, all connected by sturdy looking chains. In another corner there was a setup of metal bars, chains, and pulleys that could hold someone spread eagle standing up.

Strider was willing to admit that it was all a bit disconcerting. Some of that must have shown on his face because Horan smirked.

The captain stood and removed a set from the wall. “I think these are yer size,” he continued, holding the manacles up for Strider’s view. “I forged these myself fer the Big Folk.”

Horan clipped them to his belt, not far from one of his axes. “Just in case,” he grinned, an expression that said he very much hoped to have the opportunity to put them to use.

oOoOoOo

Aragorn followed his two escorts out of the guardhouse to a large tavern next door. The main room was populated with dwarves of varying degrees of drunkenness. Many of them looked to be guards just getting off their shift. A few took time from their merrymaking to point out the tall Man in their midst to their more inebriated companions.

The small party paused only briefly in the main room however. Horan talked to the proprietor at the bar who handed him a key and gestured to the stairs.

The key unlocked the door to a room two floors up. The Ranger was glad that, even though he had had to duck to get in the door, the ceiling of the room was high enough for him to be able to stand fully upright.

Inside Aragorn saw the room had a fireplace and contained a table, two chairs, and two beds. Two very dwarf sized beds. Aragorn was tall even for a human. He was used to his feet hanging off the edge of the bed if he stayed anywhere other than with the elves, but he’d be hanging off at the knees _at least_ if he was supposed to sleep in one of those beds. Then of course there were three of them and only two beds, neither of which was large enough for more than one occupant to sleep comfortably. Perhaps he wasn’t expected to sleep on a bed. He eyed the cold stone floor warily. One of the chairs would be more comfortable.

Nenar claimed one of the said chairs at the table. Pulling out parchment, ink, and quill he began on his quest to fill the parchment with runes.

When the second chair was claimed by the other dwarf Aragorn was left to choose his seat from the other options. Removing his cloak and other outer gear and weapons he rested them against the wall between the two beds before sitting down on one of them.

The only sound in the room was the scratching of Nenar’s quill. Horan sat and glared at the Ranger and made no attempt at conversation and welcomed none.

Strider was beginning to think he would have been more comfortable sleeping outside the city. A few minutes later he had reason to reevaluate that thought when a knock on the door brought a young dwarf into the room carrying a tray of food. He took the tray to the table where Horan removed two mugs of mead, bowls of stew, and plates with hunks of bread and cheese on them then pointed the young dwarf over to Aragorn.

Nenar gave an unamused look to Horan who ignored it and the young dwarf looked uncomfortable as he carried the tray over. Strider didn’t understand the meaning of the two expressions until he looked to the tray to take his food. There was one mug left along with just a plate with bread and cheese.

Smiling lightly at the young dwarf he thought must be the son or grandson of the barkeep, Aragorn nodded his thanks as he took his dinner. Visibly relaxing the young dwarf gave him a small smile back. He opened as if to speak but quickly shut it again after a glance at Horan’s scowl and scurried from the room.

Aragorn was slightly annoyed with the rude dwarf, but not overly much because one of the things he looked forward to most when visiting any settlement was already on his plate. Freshly baked bread was not something he had available when patrolling the wilderness for threats and he didn’t turn it down when it was offered. His portion was still hot and there was even a small helping of butter on the plate too. All in all, he was quite satisfied with the meal.

Sadly, it was the highlight of the evening.

Glaring at the Ranger, Horan declared that he himself would not be sleeping that night so that he could keep watch.

Nenar looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained. Instead he eventually took the other bed, swapping the sounds in the room from the scratching of his quill to light snoring.

Horan remained sitting in his chair. Rarely did the dwarf guard take his eyes off the Ranger. He’d even followed him to the privy and stood guard outside the door! The time in their rented room was spent either inspecting the Man sized restraints or, later on, sharpening his multiple weapons and staring. All. Night. Long. If Strider hadn’t had experience sleeping in locations where he may be required to defend his life at any moment he wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all. Not that he got much rest.

Yes, Aragorn decided, he _would_ have been more comfortable sleeping outside the mountain.

oOoOoOo


	29. A Better Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A better day for our favorite Ranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and to everyone that has commented!

oOoOoOo

The next morning the room’s two occupants that had actually slept were woken up by loud knocking. Horan answered the door before either had gotten out of bed.

Part of Aragorn’s Ranger training had included learning to sleep in less than friendly conditions. So while he had been able to fall asleep despite Horan’s hostile gaze and the noise of the whetstone along the blades of the dwarf’s weapons, it hadn’t been truly restful. His sense of danger had constantly told him there was a threat nearby.

Beyond the now open door was Dein, the copper haired dwarf Aragorn had been introduced to the previous day, with his arm raised to knock once more.

“What do ye want?” the surly dwarf captain demanded of him.

“There ye are!” Dein sighed in relief and stepped into the room. “They’ve been looking for ye all night! They tried yer office, yer home, and yer normal tavern. Someone even checked at that dwarrowdam friend’s o’ yers. Luckily the Princess’ guards were outside so it wasnna necessary ta bother the ladies,” the redhead gave him a sly wink.

Horan gave him a funny look at that before an intrigued expression crossed his face.

“No one thought to check here until I got in with the morning shift,” the newcomer continued.

“Who is looking for me and why?” asked Horan his face returning to his normal scowl as he shut the door.

“Everyone! Well, Captain Delvar probably if you want someone specific. That prisoner, Afal, died in his cell last night.”

Growling roughly under his breath, Horan quickly started to gather his things.

“What happened?” Aragorn asked.

“I donna know. I just heard that when the healer arrived ta take a look at him he was already dead.”

Nenar shook his head. “There is always so much paperwork when a prisoner dies. And then there is the investigation.”

“Captain Delvar has taken charge of the investigation since no one could find you,” Dein informed the guard captain.

“I’m sorry to hear he died,” Strider offered his condolences to the dwarves.

“He is no great loss,” scoffed Horan. “A career thief with no close family ta speak of. He probably tried to swindle the wrong dwarf and paid for it.”

“That is a very cold thing to say about someone who has just passed,” objected Aragorn.

“Anyone of his ilk _should_ meet a miserable end,” growled Horan giving the Ranger a hateful glare.

“I thought you were supposed to be off duty today, Dein,” the scholarly dwarf said to change the subject as he and Strider finished putting themselves together for the day.

“I came in ta finish some paperwork to get over to ye,” he said nodding at the silver haired dwarf. Turning back to the guard captain he continued, “I was gonna try ta get some other work done before takin’ over this afternoon but it looks like ye’ll be busier than me. I can take over now if ye like,” Dein offered.

“How obligin’ o’ ye,” Horan sneered then removed the Man sized restraints from his belt and thrust them into the newcomer’s chest.

Dein gave a strange look to the gruff captain, then the cuffs, then once more to the surly dwarf before he sighed. Rolling his eyes, he took them and clipped them to his belt.

Things gathered, Horan departed without another word.

“By yer states when I arrived I take it ye havenna broken yer fast yet,” reasoned Dein.

“No, we haven’t,” Aragorn confirmed.

“Excellent!” Dein grinned. “We are gonna get the best breakfast in the mountain.”

“That sounds wonderful,” the Ranger grinned back.

oOoOoOo

Aragorn expected their destination to be Dein’s own tavern of choice. He was pleasantly surprised to find it was actually the home of the dwarf’s family.

Inside a large common room there were twenty or so dwarves getting ready to sit around a long table when they arrived. More place settings were quickly added to the table. Strider and Nenar found themselves seated on either side of the head of the table.

Throughout the meal the Ranger was introduced to the members of Dein’s family. His grandmother and mother kept themselves busy keeping everyone’s plates full of food. There was his grandfather, a very old white haired dwarf at the head of the table, then his father, followed by a couple of aunts and several uncles, as well as numerous first and second cousins and a few of their children.

Strider tried to determine which members of the latter two groups were female. He thought two of the young adults might be, but he was pretty sure the dwarfling that had ceased sucking a thumb only long enough to tell him his sword was ‘pwetty’ was a little girl. This brought a round of boisterous laughter all around and a quick speculation on whether said dwarfling was already leaning towards specializing in swordsmanship or if instead they would have a blacksmith on their hands.

Aragorn thoroughly enjoyed the meal. The company was more pleasant than he had been expecting to receive from the dwarves. They’d fired question after question at him, some still with full mouths, but it was done in a friendly manner. The breakfast they had shared with him really was delicious as well. Fried eggs, potatoes, and salted pork accompanied with a hunk of cheese, a mug of fine honey mead, and, most importantly, more freshly baked bread. There was also butter, honey, and three different jams. Strider took a little of each to try. The strawberry and blackberry jams were as he expected, but he was pleasantly surprised by the golden jam.

“It’s Amber Queen!” Aragorn exclaimed. He’d been expecting apricot or perhaps peach.

“You are familiar with it?” asked an aunt.

“I have been fortunate enough to have it a time or two when I have passed through the Shire,” offered the Ranger.

“Enjoy it,” said one of the uncles. “That is the last of it until the Hobbits are willin’ ter sell more.”

“I am honored you are willing to share it with me then.”

“It's only out _‘cause_ yer here. Grandmum keeps it fer special occasions,” offered one of the young dwarves. Strider noted all the dwarves took a portion of Amber Queen as it was passed around.

“Still I am honored,” Aragorn smiled.

oOoOoOo

“Now that we’re fed ‘n watered I thought I’d take ye ta the main marketplace. Let ye have a look around there,” Dein offered as they finally departed the dwarven home.

“I’d like that,” Strider agreed and followed Dein’s lead. Nenar brought up the rear, ever observant of the Ranger.

Browsing a dwarven market inside the mountain was an excellent and rare opportunity. A short time into their perusal seemed to support the speculation that the dwarves kept the best of their crafts to themselves. Here in their home everything Strider saw was of excellent craftsmanship even when the level ornamentation differed.

There were carts, booths, and shops with their wares on display. They were looking through various leather goods when a new voice called to the Ranger.

“Yer bracer needs mendin’. I can do that fer ye.”

Aragorn looked down at said bracer. It did indeed need mending. Between normal wear and tear and getting it caught on something during a slide down a small but steep ravine one of the leather straps that held the bracer on was torn and slowly fraying. It was bound to break soon.

“How long would it take you?” Aragorn asked. “I must admit I do not know how long I will remain here in Ered Luin.”

“Come back after midday and I’ll have it done,” the dwarf told him.

They haggled briefly over the price. Strider ended up agreeing to pay what he thought was a bit costly but not outrageously so. If the repair was on a similar level of quality as the other wares the dwarf had on display in his shop it would be worth the expense.

The group perused the market for about another hour, Aragorn purchasing a few odds and ends here and there, after which Dein continued the Ranger’s tour to far more interesting sights of the mountain than he’d gotten under Horan.

One of the main streets off of the market was called Guild Row. Both sides were lined with building after building, each of which displayed the symbol of the respective crafting guild it housed.

“We’re na gonna’ go inside any o’ them. They’re too busy,” Dein explained. “Browsin’ is fer the market. Anyone that goes in there fer that and not ter commission anythin’ is told off right quick fer wastin’ their time. ‘Cept the King-in-Exile o’ course, ‘n the rest o’ the Royal Family. Maybe the Council I suppose, though, just between you ‘n me, I’d like ter tell some o’ them off meself.”

Strider gave him an commiserating smile. He understood the desire to vent on the bureaucrats. He was not looking forward to that side of things should he ever reclaim his rightful place on the throne. Dealing with the few he had as a Ranger was bad enough.

Dein kept up a friendly conversation throughout the day. They talked about many things like Strider’s activities as a Ranger, places he’d been, people he’d met, and of course, why he was visiting the mountain. The copper haired dwarf was very curious about their guest and confessed he’d never been farther than a hundred miles from Ered Luin.

Nenar remained mostly unobtrusive and rarely spoke, so much so that Aragorn almost forgot he was with them sometimes.

After they’d walked the length of Guild Row, Aragorn was shown multiple murals carved into stone. Most depicted great battles. He wondered at the skill it must have taken, especially since some of them were several stories tall.

Since it was not in use at the time, Dein was also able to get him into the Throne Room. The throne itself was intricately carved out of the blue-gray stone most of the mountain consisted of and was accented with gold gilding. There were several sockets the size of his fist in the gilding that held the same type of stone, but these pieces were polished to a brilliant shine. Aragorn couldn’t help but wonder if these had once held precious gems before tragedy had struck the dwarves. He could not think of a polite way to ask, so he did not mention it.

If Strider had asked he might have been told that it was true that gems had once decorated the throne. Most had already been gone when they’d reestablished their people here. Already put in charge by his father, Thrain had had the rest of the stones removed and put towards benefiting the clan and had the throne refinished as they saw it that day. Thorin had kept it that way in honor of his father after his disappearance at the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Maybe the dwarves would have told him this tale. Or maybe they would have kept their silence, like they did about many other things.

During the tour the small group had passed an extremely large doorway. The stone frame surrounding it was three feet wide and stood out from the wall by at least a foot. Its intricate carvings were more detailed than anything he had seen so far, except for the king’s throne, yet Dein did not slow or stop to mention it.

The doors themselves had been partially open so the tall man had glanced inside. The walls he saw had rows upon rows of squares about four feet across carved into them. Inside each square hung a weapon, shield, helm, or combination of the three and below that were runes. When Aragorn asked, Dein explained that it was the entrance to the Halls of the Ancestors, but did not say more and the Ranger left it at that.

For their midday meal Dein took him back to the same tavern where he’d spent the night, then they returned to get Aragorn’s bracer. True to his word, the dwarf merchant had it ready to go. The repair’s quality was on par with the rest of the items Aragorn had seen, and matched the rest of the bracer in color and stitching. Pleased, Strider handed over the agreed on amount of coin and buckled his cuff back on.

Business now finished he thank the dwarf and gestured for Dein to lead the way to their next destination.

Once out of the shop Nenar informed them he was scheduled to meet with Princess Nis shortly.

“That’s a shame. Ye’ll miss most o’ the fun then,” Dein said. “Our next stop is the Training Hall.”

“What sort of training?” Strider asked.

“Ye’ll see,” the dwarf grinned.

oOoOoOo

The Training Hall was just what Strider had expected (and hoped) it would be. There were dwarves practicing with axes, swords, mace, and more in the many small practice rings or against the dummies along the wall. On one end of the hall was an archery range that was being used by a very small number of the shorter race. The largest gathering of occupants, however, was on the other end of the hall. Here there was a large rectangular arena. There were tiered benches on three of the sides and half of the fourth and there were large openings in the surrounding walls even further up that more dwarves watched from. In the arena two bare chested dwarves wrestled. Strider noticed most of the dwarves here were like the two in the arena, stripped down to their leggings, with a few also wearing sleeveless tunics.

Those sitting in the stands were mainly focused on the match while the dwarves in the balconies above were watching the overall scene in Training Hall. He wondered if they might be women. Some of them seemed very… giggly. Others were blatantly ogling the briefly clad dwarves below. A second glance supported that thought since it looked like more than one of those in and around the arena were showing off their physiques for the watchers above.

They spent the rest of the time until the evening meal in the Training Hall. Nenar disappeared off to his meeting at some point during that time.

Dein and Strider spent time with swords, bows, and throwing their daggers. The Ranger was even given a big dwarven axe and warhammer to try swinging.

The few dwarven archers challenged him to a friendly little competition. Some of them were very good. Fortunately they all took their loss to the Ranger in stride, joking that he would give the ‘tree shaggers’ a run for their money. He, of course, refrained from mentioning that he had actually been trained on the bow by elves.

They finished their time in the hall wrestling with each other as well as other dwarves in the large arena. He had momentarily been stunned when one of his opponents, a dwarf named Tola, managed to flip him head over feet and used the opportunity to pin him. The dwarves had been quite amused at the sight.

“Donna fret too much over it, lad,” and elderly, but no less heavily muscled, dwarf patted his arm. “Tola is a trainer fer unarmed combat ‘n improvised weaponry. We’ve all taken our turns havin’ her introduce us ta the floor.”

oOoOoOo

Supper was once more at the tavern by the guard house, this time consumed in the main room with the other dwarves. Nenar returned during the meal. Aragorn was served a bowl of stew like all the other patrons along with as much fresh bread as he wanted.

A group of dwarves started a drinking contest and invited the tall Man in their midst to join. Aragorn declined due to his task and the unknown duration of his stay. He’d hate to show up hungover should the Princesses wish to meet with him again. They might take offense. Or they might not. By all accounts, his own included, dwarves love to drink. He just didn’t know enough about dwarves and their customs. For all he knew, hungover was a normal morning.

When it was time to retire for the night the room they rented actually had four beds unlike the last room’s two. They were dwarf sized, but to Aragorn it was still an encouraging sight. Then it got better when Dein got his assistance to push two of the beds together, end to end, so they were long enough for the Ranger to fully lay down on.

Aragorn got more rest that night than he had the previous, even if a low level sense of danger nearby never went away.

oOoOoOo


	30. But Not for Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone's day starts as well as Aragorn's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> I know I mentioned to at least one reader that I hoped to have only one chapter left in Ered Luin before getting back to the company, but I wanted to get a little something out (besides the side story involving Dis and Vili I posted last week) for the holiday. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that left a kudos and/or a comment!

oOoOoOo

At the same time Aragorn was enjoying his friendly breakfast Nis and Dis were in the former’s office meeting with Delvar. The Captain of the Guard had spent the night looking into the death of the thief Afal since no one he spoke with seemed to know where Horan had taken the Ranger for the evening.

“The healer that examined the body is an experienced dwarf whose judgment I trust,” Delvar reported. “He found numerous wounds on the body including a severely fractured skull.”

“That is no mean feat!” Dis said.

Dwarven skulls are very thick. While it was within the physical capability of many a grown dwarrow, one does not fracture a dwarf skull on accident in a scuffle. It takes far too much force. That dwarf that had managed to fall out a window and hit his head hard enough to disorient himself and wander into the mines and get lost for a few days had fallen three stories without sustaining a life threatening injury.

“Aye,” Delvar agreed. “The healer said it looked like Afal had sustained the injury at least several hours before he showed up at the guardhouse and could account for his muddled speech.”

“Is that what killed him?” Nis inquired.

“That is what the healer thought until he found another wound he had seen before. One that would have left Afal with only minutes left to live. The healer couldn’t say for certain if it was the fractured skull or the other wound that killed the prisoner, but he said he was leaning towards the latter.”

“Is it an injury that could have been dealt accidentally?” probed Nis.

“Nay, yer Highness,” Delvar said gravely.

Dis sympathized with the Captain of the Guard. This information could mean only one thing.

“Why would one of your men do this?” she asked.

“By all accounts I’ve gotten so far from my men during the investigation, I believe he came to the guard house to try to tell us somethin’.”

“What information would a known thief wish to share with the guards?” Nis queried.

“In searchin’ the body I found somethin’ that concerns me greatly. I am familiar with this particular dwarf and his past infractions. He wasna very bright. Certainly no’ bright enough to mastermind any plot I fear the item must be surely be a part of. I thought it best to bring it to you,” Delvar said drawing a wrapped bundle from his pocket. He placed it on the desk in front of the regent, unwrapping it slowly.

Nis and Dis leaned in to examine the item. When each dwarrowdam identified it they gasped, one coming only a moment after the other.

“Is that-? It can’t be! It must be a forgery!” exclaimed Dis switching her gaze from the item to her mother, then Delvar, and then back again.

Nis reached out a hand and gently touched the item briefly before resting her hands on either side of it on the desk. “It is real,” she said softly not taking her eyes off of it, “but this should not be here.”

“Nay, it should no’ be,” affirmed Delvar.

“Does anyone else know you found this?” Nis asked finally raising her eyes to the guard captain once more.

“Nay, your highness, I was alone while performin’ my search. I knew what it was as soon as I had it in my hands, and I wrapped it up and put it in my pocket. I thought you would be the best to decide what to do about it with the King-in-Exile being away and all.”

“Good. Keep it that way,” Nis ordered. “Horan interacted with the prisoner during the timeframe the second injury was sustained did he not?”

“Aye, yer Highness.”

“I know this investigation would normally be handled by him, but under the circumstances I want you to continue to lead the investigation. This,” Nis said patting the item, “is not to be mentioned to anyone. However, see if you can discreetly discover how it might have come to be in Afal’s possession. Oh, and Delvar, don’t forget to get some sleep.”

“As ye command, yer Highness,” Delvar bowed and departed.

“What could this mean, Amad [Mother]?” Dis asked, worry evident in her voice.

“It means we are all in danger,” Nis told her daughter.

oOoOoOo


	31. Royal Meetings, Partings, and More Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> The part about the trading caravans was inspired by a post I read somewhere (tumblr maybe?) that I now can not find to credit it.
> 
> I’ve been going through and editing and adding a few bits here and there to the earlier chapters, so if you reread and see anything different that is why. The story hasn’t changed, I just fleshed it out a bit here and there and tried to fix typos and such. As of 12/31/16 every chapter has has a little update.
> 
> Also in the next chapter we will be back with the company. Yay!

oOoOoOo

A short time later Delvar was once again in Nis’ office, this time accompanied by Horan.

“It is _my_ duty!” a red faced Horan insisted.

“We are aware of that,” Nis said, “but we still feel it would be best in this instance to let Captain Delvar continue to lead the investigation. Instead we have arranged for you to have a week off from your duties.”

Horan visibly paled. “Yer Highnesses, I am sorry I didna think to leave word of where I was watchin’ the Man. Considerin’ how many o’ the guards frequent the place I’m surprised none o’ them remembered, but I am more than able to take over lookin’ into the prisoner’s death!”

“We are aware that you were not at your usual haunts because you were performing a duty we asked of you. It has also come to our attention that in doing that duty you had to cancel your own plans.”

Horan’s glance briefly focused solely on Dis at that and she briefly wondered if he somehow knew she’d consoled Tola’s disappointment personally.

“I could still help with the investigation,” he maintained.

“You can by sharing any information you can about Afal and your interaction with him that night that might help Captain Delvar with his investigation. After that you are to enjoy your time off,” said Nis.

When it looked like he was going to object further she continued, “You are not to enter the guard house or dungeon for a week unless asked by Captain Delvar to do so. Is that clear?”

“Yes, yer Highness,” Horan said reluctantly.

“You have served us well Captain Horan. We do this in gratitude. You are not under any sort of censure,” Nis assured him.

“Yes, yer Highness,” Horan offered again along with a bow before departing.

“We have given you a week to probe without his being able to tamper with any evidence in the guardhouse if he is guilty,” Nis said once she was sure the subject was gone. “Any more than that would be suspicious.”

“And considerin’ what ye said about cancelled plans he knows if he doesna spend the time with his lover it’ll be suspicious,” Delvar said.

“That was not the look of a dwarf excited to have time off to spend with a lover,” mused Nis.

“Yes, but is that because he’s dedicated to his duty or because he’s guilty o’ murder?” wondered Delvar.

“I just hope we didn’t put Tola in danger,” said Dis.

Horan did take advantage of his time off. He and Tola secluded themselves away in his quarters for most of the week. A week full of intimacies that they would learn later left Tola with child.

Dis did see them together once about midweek when they surfaced to restock their food supply.

Observing Horan and Tola together did ease some of the worry Dis had held for her friend. While Tola had claimed there wasn’t anything more between the two beyond the physical, after watching them interact, Dis was not so sure.

Horan was not known for being pleasant company. Even now interacting with the vendors in the marketplace a fierce frown marred his face. Except when he gazed at Tola. From the looks Horan gave her friend, Dis thought at least one heart was engaged. If that suspicion was correct, then whether he was guilty or not Tola, at least, was safe in in Horan’s company.

When equally besotted looks were returned she wondered how in touch Tola was with her own feelings.

When the two dwarrowdams had had the opportunity to speak privately Tola told her Horan was extremely agitated about not being able to be involved in the investigation.

The silver haired dwarrowdam had also invited Dis to join them for an evening, but Dis declined. Perhaps if Horan was proved innocent of killing that prisoner she might take up the offer on another occasion. She’d certainly enjoyed her time with Tola enough for a repeat. While it was rare, they wouldn’t be the first paired Ones that were open to threesomes or more.

What worry that did remain after she parted from the pair was for Tola’s heart if Horan proved guilty of murder.

oOoOoOo

Several hours after they’d given Horan his time off the two Royals met with Nenar and heard his report on the Ranger’s behavior while in the mountain.

“He handled Horan better than I’d expected,” Nis said to her daughter once they were alone again. “I think for the sake of our relations with the Shire we had better tell this Strider where he needs to go.”

“I also do not think it would be wise to keep a wizard from his letters,” said Dis. “Even if it did contain something we thought was insignificant, it might not be to Tharkun.”

“I would not consider Strider’s information insignificant,” Nis contended.

“Nor I,” agreed Dis. “It will certainly please the dwarrowdams that travel with the merchant caravans.”

They smiled at one another.

A prominent merchant in the first caravan that had traded with the Shire had been dwarrowdam. Somehow the hobbits had discovered that fact and had subsequently dismissed her as being capable of running her trade. Instead the halflings had done business through her two assistants, one of whom was also a dwarrowdam. Seeing the hobbits’ reaction to her boss, they had made sure to keep that information a secret and were quick to encourage the others to do the same. Word spread to the other caravans quickly. As far as the inhabitants of the Shire knew none of the dwarven trading caravans brought their women along on their journeys anymore.

The two agreed to meet with the Ranger once again on the morrow before calling an end to the day.

Dis had to hold in a sigh when she saw who waiting for her when she left the office.

“My Princess,” he bowed.

“Hello, Lord Nar. Hello, Lord Mog,” Dis said to the Council member and his assistant. Mog was a dwarf of middling age with long golden hair and full beard that had taken over the role of Nar’s chief assistant after his father.

“Hello, Your Highness. Is there anything you need taken to the archive?” Mog asked.

“Not today. Thank you.”

“Then I wish you good evening, Your Highness,” Mog bowed and left her with the councilor.

“May I have the honor of escorting you to your quarters?” asked Nar, a dwarf whose white hair contained only a few strands of its original brown.

“I would not wish to inconvenience you,” Dis offered. It was the same conversation they normally had in this situation. She didn’t really have an excuse to say no, and it _was_ where she was headed.

“It’s no trouble at all!” he said offering her his arm.

Thanking him, she took it and they were on their way. At first she was surprised when he brought up the Ranger, but after a moment’s thought figured every dwarf in Thorin’s Halls must know they had a Man in their midst. He continued his questions on the subject for the entire journey, but Dis gave him very little information.

“I am just concerned for your safety,” Nar implored. “Men are cruel, untrustworthy beings, and to have one so near…”

“Precautions have been taken to minimize any such threat, I assure you,” Dis offered.

Nar left Dis’ rooms doubly disappointed. Once again she had not invited him inside nor had he learned why there was a Man in their mountain.

oOoOoOo

In the early hours of the morning the Amrad Babanal’s agent was finally able to meet with him in secret once more.

“He is dead, my Lord.”

“Was he able to pass on any of his information?” the Death Weaver asked.

“No, the babble just slurred into unconsciousness then he died.”

“Excellent.”

“That must’ve been one blow to the head ye gave him. Surprisin’ he was able to avoid capture for so long with an injury that took away his speech.”

“Traitor’s minds can be surprisingly devious. It is good you were able to take care of him before he could damage our work. Well done. What have you learned of the Ranger?”

“Much, my Lord,” he offered before sharing the information he’d gathered.

“You’ve done well. You may go.”

“Thank ye, my Lord,” he bowed and departed.

The masked dwarf stayed where he was for a moment longer then started his silent journey in contemplation.

Some of the Amrad Babanal’s agents believed him to be Spymaster to the King like Afal had once, before the thief had gotten too curious for his own good.

Among the common people some thought such a position was more legend to dissuade the criminally inclined than actual fact. The identity of the spymaster was never made public knowledge nor the position ever even publicly acknowledged by the crown. Such information rarely went beyond the Royal Council. That was how the Amrad Babanal knew that there wasn’t currently a spymaster. That and he’d killed the last one with his own hands.

The combination of skills necessary to be an effective spymaster was a rare find among dwarrow. Intelligence, cleverness, subtlety, and stealth, among others. A ruthlessness rarely found outside the criminal dregs of society yet a fierce loyalty to the Crown was also vital.

While subterfuge was not a great strength of his people as a whole, it was loyalty the Death Weaver was lacking. He would have made an excellent spymaster otherwise. Instead he had turned his abilities against Thorin and his line. And all those who stood between him and his objective.

The Death Weaver took a few moments to revel in the memory of watching the light leave the eyes of that damn Spider after she had learned too much. Before this debacle with Afal there had been only two other incidents had been this close to being revealed, another thief and the spymaster.

Publicly she had been a mining foreman with superior climbing ability. She’d executed several off the cuff rescues that involved passing her own safety ropes off to the injured or trapped and climbing out with just her own hands earning her the nickname ‘Spider’.

The Death Weaver wished he could have risked keeping her for more than the one night. She had been good in bed. He had enjoyed having her there for several years previously, and would have liked to have kept her longer. However, she had been too wily (and flexible), and far too good at getting out of tight situations. He couldn’t let her out of his sight alive, and he couldn’t abandon his other duties to stay with her, so he had taken one last night before ending her life and staging a ‘tragic accident’ in her beloved mine.

Killing her had had the bonus of removing the spymasters network from supporting Thorin’s rule, though. Outside of bed Spider had been a paranoid shrew. Her agents had reported solely to her and no one else had known who they were. With her death the network had become nonexistent.

That thought brought up the possibility that Thorin might also be a paranoid bastard and had lied about not being able to find anyone to take on the spymaster duties. Considering the latest developments that just might be possible.

One trait that was useful for a spymaster that the Death Weaver had in abundance was patience. The plot had begun over two-hundred years ago, and soon he would see its fruition. There were only a few more obstacles left. Thorin II and III. Fili. Kili. Dain. Oin. Gloin. Whatever Gloin’s son’s name was. Balin. Dwalin. Dori. Nori. The sister too just to be safe. His plans for Nis and Dis were already in place. It would only take a word to see them dealt with. Perhaps a few others would meet untimely demises. Documents he’d had replaced over the years would arrange everything else. Unfortunately most of the targets had disappeared with the King-in-Exile.

He was so close! He could not have come so far to see it unravel now!

The Death Weaver swore. He had thought he’d had all of the Royal Family sorted right where he wanted them and then Thorin Oakenshield had to go and run off!

Reaching the room on one of the lower levels he used as an office for conducting his clandestine business he went to the desk. He opened a secret drawer to pull out what he saw as the secret weapon for his success. He flew into a rage, throwing his chair against the wall, when he read the short note he found instead.

_I swear by my life I’ll see ye pay for your crimes, traitor._

_-Afal_

oOoOoOo

“No, Amad. Don’t come with me to the gate. Please!” Gimli begged his mother early the next morning.

It was bittersweet to see her son growing up. Tawni was still proud of Gimli even if he now found her affection embarrassing, so she acquiesced to his request for a private goodbye. She couldn’t resist making said goodbye even more affectionate than she would have done at the gate by hugging him tightly and kissing his nose in addition to bumping foreheads.

Gimli endured it with the long suffering of those secretly pleased to know they are cared for, but for one reason or another are afraid to show it. Then he was off to join the hunting party that would take him away from her sight for several weeks.

oOoOoOo

At the same time mother and son were saying their farewell Nis and Dis were meeting with Strider once more.

“We have the information you seek, however, we are concerned that relations between our peoples will suffer if the Thain disapproves of his granddaughter traveling with a party of our kind,” Nis admitted.

“He seemed more concerned for her safety, making sure she learns of the changes that have been made, and she can return to her home with no repercussions,” the Ranger tried to assure them.

“If she truly is traveling with the company you described, then he is right to worry for her safety,” Princess Dis spoke for the first time in his presence.

That was not what Strider wanted to hear. “Are they dangerous?” he asked.

“Not in the way you are thinking. They will not harm her. It is their objective that is dangerous,” Nis explained.

“But you do know who they are and where they are going.”

“Oh, yes. Several of them quite well,” the Regent confirmed. “The leader you described is my son.”

“The King-in-Exile?” Aragorn assumed.

“Aye,” confirmed Dis. “Two of the younger dwarrow are _my_ sons.”

“I see,” said the Ranger. “It could be disastrous if the Thain though your king abducted his granddaughter or something similar.”

“Just so,” Nis nodded.

“This Bilba Baggins must be very dear to her grandfather for him to make such a huge change for her,” Strider said slowly. “I bear one letter for the dwarf that saved her. Though it is sealed, I would wager it professes profound thanks for doing so. I saw no indication of ill will towards your people in my meeting with the Thain. However, should harm befall the hobbit on her journey I can not say what the Thain would do in his grief.”

The dwarves nodded.

“That is one reason why we believe it would be best that we aid you in your task,” Nis informed him. “That particular company is traveling to Erebor. It is also commonly called the Lonely Mountain. Do you know of it?”

“The Lonely Mountain? It lies to the east, does it not? Beyond the Misty Mountains. It is the source of the River Rushing, I believe.”

“That is correct,” the older dwarf affirmed.

“Isn’t there a _dragon_ living in that mountain?” asked an incredulous Aragorn.

“We did say it was dangerous,” Dis said.

“Aye, though their objective is not about confronting the dragon, but to retrieve an item from inside Erebor.”

“That does not sound any less dangerous. What could be so important to be worth the risk?” Strider asked.

“An item that might aid us in defeating the dragon so that we can reclaim our homeland.”

“What could help you do that and why was it not used in the first place?” Strider asked confused.

Both dwarves remained silent, but the left eyebrow of each rose.

‘Right,’ Aragorn thought to himself. ‘Dwarven secrecy.’

“Forgive me. I do not mean to pry into your affairs. I was just trying to understand the risk,” he apologized.

Princess Nis nodded her forgiveness.

“Tharkun has also expressed his desire that the dragon be dealt with,” she said. “If you are at all familiar with wizards you realize they have a way of getting their wishes acted upon.”

“I have only ever met Gandalf, but that does sound like him,” Strider sighed.

“I imagine you are thinking something along the lines of ‘Why? Oh, why, Tharkun, did you involve a hobbit in this?’” Princess Nis said in sympathy.

“Something like that,” Strider agreed.

“I met Saruman the White once in my youth. He seemed to me to be very well educated, but did not possess Tharkun’s curiosity about our culture and day to day lives.”

“The less social of the two, but also the less nosy?”

“Aye,” smiled Nis. “But no less able in getting his wished acted upon.”

Aragorn nodded in understanding.

“Since I am headed that way anyways, I would be willing to carry letters to Thorin Oakenshield and his company if there are any you wish to send,” he offered.

“We were hoping you would be,” said Dis.

Nis pulled a bundle wrapped in oiled leather out of a drawer and held it out to the Ranger.

“We took the liberty of telling close kin of the company that they could write to them.”

Strider bowed his head and took the small package.

“We have instructed Captain Delvar to see that you are supplied. When you are prepared, you may depart.”

“I hope to be on my way within the hour. It looks like I have a long journey ahead of me. Thank you both for all of your assistance. May the forge of the dwarves ever burn bright,” Strider offered the only traditional dwarven farewell he knew. It seemed fitting under the circumstances.

The genuine smiles he received made him glad that he had followed his instinct.

“Go with the good wishes of Durin’s Folk for a swift and safe journey,” the Regent offered in return.

oOoOoOo

It was a little more than an hour before Aragorn passed through the Main Gate of the mountain and out into open air, but still well before midday so he was quite content.

When he reached the first fork in the road the Ranger found a red haired dwarf waiting on a pony packed for more than a few days’ journey.

“Good morning, Master Dwarf,” Aragorn greeted him.

“Yer the Ranger going after the Wizard and Company,” the dwarf said.

“I am,” Aragorn confirmed.

“I’ll be going with ye.”

“You are more than welcome to do so,” Aragorn offered, “but I feel I must warn you that I will be stopping in Rivendell on my journey.”

The dwarf scowled, “Why would ye want to go there?”

“It is the best place to replenish supplies before crossing or circumventing the Misty Mountains.”

The dwarf grumbled to himself and huffed before giving a proper response. “Fine,” he groused. “Lead on.”

“I am known as Strider, Master Dwarf.”

“And I am Gimli, son of Gloin,” said the redhead.

oOoOoOo


	32. The Misty Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company's journey through the Misty Mountains. And a little extra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> Author’s Note: I LIVE! I’m sorry it’s been so long!
> 
> I did some editing to get back into writing so almost every chapter has had a little tweak here and there as of 12/17/17. None of the changes are to the plot, but I’d recommend a reread especially since it's been almost a year. *hangs head in shame*

oOoOoOo

 

The journey through the Misty Mountains went about as bad as it could go with everyone still surviving. Not that there hadn’t been plenty of close calls in that department.

Shortly after the Company had started their ascent into the mountains it had started to rain and it kept raining, the storm growing in ferocity the higher they went. Then the stone giants appeared. Half of the Company had their first close call there. Doubly so for their burglar.

The first time Bofur asked ‘Where’s Bilba?’ Thorin’s heart stopped. He did not feel it beat again until he had helped the hobbit back up from her precarious position hanging over the cliff edge.

As his nephews could attest, Thorin handled the scare in his usual manner. He’d yelled at the one who had been in danger - the hobbit. Worse, he’d said things he should not have, especially considering the council of the elves that they could not succeed without her, not to mention his private hopes for the future.

The Dwarf King was was overwhelmed with worry and frustration at putting Bilba in danger. He saw the hurt on her face and the disapproval on those of the rest of the Company. He’d seen that scowl on Dwalin’s face many time, but rarely was it directed at him. (Later, when they had a bit of privacy, Balin would take the opportunity to lecture him quietly on Ways of Making Friends and How That Was Not One of Them.) Thorin knew he would have to apologize, yet he was far too upset to do so. Instead he ordered a search of the newfound cave in the hopes they could take shelter in it.

Though the search did not turn up any threats, resting in the cave did not go well. Those of the company who were still awake were given only a few moments warning when they saw the blue glow coming from Orcrist and Bilba’s little blade.

Thorin, for his part, was absolutely positive the Valar were entertaining themselves at his expense. Once again he found himself in a position that would have been desirable in _very_ different circumstances.

When the trap floor in the cave had been sprung the entire party fell, slid, and fell some more, eventually landing into a rough caged age area. Thorin ended up on his back on the far edge. Moments later Bilba landed directly on him.

Unlike with the troll incident, there was not even a few inches to spare. This time he literally got a face full of the curvy hobbit’s bosom. His nose was actually in the cleavage above her bodice. She was still wet and cold from the rain, but even softer than in his dreams.

In more amorous circumstances he would have been thrilled to have such contact and more than willing to have that encounter, but that was not the current case. There were only a few moments of the contact before the hobbit moved.

The new position was not really much of an improvement. Bilba, with an astonished look on her face, was straddled over his torso with her hands braced on either side of his head. He was positive this position would feature heavily in his dreams now that he’d seen her like this, even while clothed.

All this passed through Thorin’s mind in seconds, but did not distract him from the sight of a horde of goblins headed their way. He quickly flipped the two of them over and put himself between the foul creatures and his One.

The Dwarf King tried to locate where Orcrist had fallen, but the goblins were upon them too quickly.

The second time Bofur asked ‘Where’s Bilba?’ Thorin’s blood ran cold. He turned around to look behind. He had just put her there for her protection, but now the hobbit was gone and he could see no sign of her! Now he was the last in the line being herded further into the cavern.

oOo

While the dwarves managed to narrowly escaped the Great Goblin and his minions with the help of the newly arrived Gandalf and Glorfindel, Bilba had her own nerve wracking encounter after being separated from them.

The creature Gollum had swung back and forth between curious oddity and carnivorous murder. Bilba had offered it some of the dried fruit and nuts the elves had given them. There had been a sack of it her pack that had luckily made it that far with her. Gollum had liked the softer pieces of dried fruit but spit the nuts out. She’d tried to trade the bag of food in exchange for help in getting out, but its response of “We can kills it and has both juicies, yes Precious!” ended that.

Whether Bilba outwitted the creature Gollum or cheated to win the game of riddles might depend on whose story was being told, but either way it lead to her getting out of the mountain. She’d lost her coat’s lovely brass buttons and her pack (except for the small sack of food that she had miraculously remained hold of) in the escape. The rather handy magic ring she’d found by accident would just have to make up for the losses.

Bilba had had the opportunity to use her little knife on Gollum but could not bring herself to kill such a pitiful thing when she remembered Gandalf’s words to her when he’d given her the weapon.

_‘True courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.’_

Instead she’d jumped over the thin creature, left the bag of food in front of him, and sought to catch up with her companions outside.

They were arguing about what to do about their missing burglar when Bilba caught sight of them once again. Some (like Gandalf) argued they could not leave her to the goblins, some argued that going back would be suicide. Someone suggested she might have found a way out and was on her way back to Rivendell.

Thorin shouted something in the dwarven language that silenced the others. “We have no choice but to find our hobbit, even if that does mean going back into the goblins’ tunnels,” Thorin declared.

Taken aback, Bilba was unable to respond for several seconds. The last time the Dwarf King had spoken to her, well yelled actually, he’d certainly made it clear how he felt about her traveling with them. But if he was willing to risk all their lives to try find her, maybe a friendship wasn’t quite so hopeless after all.

Moving behind a tree Bilba removed the magic ring, then stepped out again saying, “Well, it’s a good thing you just found me then!”

The dwarves surprise exclamations and asked for explanations were cut off by Gandalf. He was relieved to see the dear girl back with them but they were not out of danger yet! They ran away from the cave’s entrance, but once the sun went down the chase was on. Eventually the Company were forced to take refuge up in some trees.

It was at this time that Thorin once again laid eyes on his grandfather’s murderer, Azog the Defiler. The sight of the foul orc filled Thorin with such rage that the next thing he remembered was his wounded body being tossed from the white warg’s mouth. His vision was slowly getting dark as an orc approached to take his head. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the little hobbit charging the orc twice her size and saving his life.

Later, when the others recounted the tale of their escape with the help of the Great Eagles, Thorin was secretly relieved he’d been unconscious. Travel by bird talon did not sound pleasant.

When the Great Eagles dropped them off onto the Carrock Gandalf was the first to reach the unconscious Dwarf King. The Grey Pilgrim used what little healing talent he possessed to check Thorin over and heal one very small internal injury that could be life threatening. He couldn’t risk healing more though. It took far too much of his power, and he was going to need it. Oin would have to take care of the rest, but Thorin should be able enough to travel to Beorn’s house. There they should be able to rest and recover.

‘ _Hopefully,_ ’ Gandalf thought.

oOoOoOo

Elsewhere in Middle Earth, six dwarves sat around their campfire. From time to time they dusted the flakes that were falling continuously from the sky off of their shoulders and heads.

All around them they could see the glow of other fires flicker in the night’s falling dark. In one direction were the camps of those who had chosen to follow the seventh member of their party. They watched as said leader departed a nearby tent where she had been meeting with the heads of the three bands of travelers that were camped in the other directions.

Each spotting the other groups journeying out here in the wilds, they had converged to share news.

“What’s the word?” one asked once their leader had joined them once more.

“It is decided,” she said. “We will travel together for safety.”

“Their destination is the same as ours?” asked another.

“After sharing information, it is,” the leader confirmed.

“Do ye know how many there are of us now?” asked the eldest male.

The youngest male whistled at the number they were given.

“And more are expected to follow in the days to come,” the leader sighed.

“Why are there so many?” asked the youngest.

“It would seem there is strife all over Middle Earth,” she said then explained what she knew of the other’s reasons for traveling. “We are headed to one of the few places we all might find safety.”  
  


oOoOoOo

 


	33. Beorn's House Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that left comments and/or kudos!

oOoOoOo

Before leaving the Carrock Thorin was able to apologize to Bilba for his words in the mountains. It wasn’t a very good apology he supposed. He did not have much experience with admitting he was wrong. Thorin had started off berating her for endangering her life once again. He’d also not been able to resist hugging her in gratitude for saving his life. A hug that, after a moment, she returned. When he pulled back he was relieved to see she was smiling a genuine smile.

Gandalf led the Company to a house a half day’s march from the Carrock. The wizard’s caution in introducing them, ‘Only come in pairs and Bombur you count as two,’ was not the least reassuring to Bilba. Luckily the tactic seemed to work for the great skin-changer, Beorn, did welcome them into his home especially when the last of their group, Glorfindel, made his appearance. He was most interested in the story of why thirteen dwarves were traveling with an elf, a wizard, and a halfling (“A hobbit if you don’t mind”).

Dinner was both novel and welcome to Bilba. Never before had she been served by animals! Dogs, and ponies, and white sheep lead by a black ram arranged everything for the meal.

After man and beast were fed and watered Beorn offered them places to spend the night that they gladly accepted. “There is a room up in the loft if the women want privacy or there is plenty of clean straw for mattress down here in the stalls.” After some huffing and snuffling with his furry companions in the odd animal language he went on to offer a hot bath. “There should be time for one or two of you to bathe tonight, or you can wait until tomorrow if you are too tired. Either way, don’t go outside until after sun rise,” and with that Beorn was gone.

Chivalrous as the dwarves could be they offered the first bath to the two females. Bilba, however, pointed out that Thorin had been injured and needed to get cleaned up and his wounds attend to. A suggestion that was seconded by Oin.

Chagrined, Thorin had thought he had hid his discomfort from the others. “Very well,” he gave in. “In the meantime I want you all to go through and take an inventory of what we have left,” he told the Company.

Beorn’s tub was in a little room at the far end of one of the wings and was only slightly more closed off than the sleeping stalls that made up that part of the house. Some long minutes passed after Thorin entered and still no water sounds emerged. Bilba approached the doorway, cautiously from the side for there was was no actual door separating them.

“Thorin? Are you alright?” Bilba called out.

“Yes,” the Dwarf King responded, though to her ears it sounded strained.

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

In the small room Thorin stood agog. He could not believe the innocent little hobbit could possibly be offering something so intimate. Not that he would mind as long as _she_ was comfortable with it.

Before he could formulate a reply she went on, “Should I send Oin in?”

Both relieved and disappointed (and frustrated at himself with the need for assistance) Thorin finally got out, “Yes, please.”

Oin helped him out of his armor and clothing, a slow going process, all the while giving him a disappointed expression, as if he was some misbehaving dwarfling! Thorin grit his teeth against it because he really did need the help. He was stiff and sore and his tunic and undergarments were stuck to his torso with dried blood. Oin was surprisingly gentle, but that did not make the gaze irk any less. He had no intention of apologizing for trying to kill Azog.

Thorin climbed into the tub. The hot water stung on his wounds, but soon turned soothing on his taxed body. Just as Oin was finishing washing his back a dog entered and put his dirty clothes in a basket and started to leave with it.

“Where are you going?!” the Dwarf King exclaimed. “I’m going to need those!

“Relax, lad. I think he’s just taking them ta be washed, which they need ta be before ye put them back over yer wounds,” Oin said.

“What am I to wear in the meantime?”

“Baa,” came from the door. A sheep came in with a blanket draped over its back. Oin took it and placed it on the only other piece of furniture in the small area other than the tub - a short bench.

Thorin stared, incredulous.

“Would ye rather walk around naked and make Bilba hide upstairs in the loft until yer clothes are clean?” Oin asked.

“No! No, of course not,” Thorin objected. “The blanket will just have to do.”

“Take some time ta soak ‘n unwind yer muscles. I’ll treat yer wounds after ye get out. Shout if ye need anythin’,” Oin said heading back out.

Thorin was just laying back to relax when he sat straight making himself wince. “Wait!

“Eh?” Oin asked turning back to him.

“My tunic! The map and key!” Thorin exclaimed.

Oin nodded then chased after the dog to empty Thorin’s pockets. He returned with their contents, including a certain handkerchief wrapped curl the twin elves had saved for the Dwarf King. Something Oin could not resist opening to investigate. With a smile he laid his retrievals on the bench next to the blanket.

“If you need any more help, give another shout.”

oOoOoOo

While Thorin and Oin were occupied in the other room Balin took up the task of sorting through what they had left while the others watched glumly. Most of the Company’s packs had been lost in the goblin tunnels, but a few of the dwarves had managed to grab a small bag or two in the dark. After a look, they found they had Bifur’s bag of wood carvings and tools and Dori’s personal bag, neither of which was especially useful.

“Well, I can at least mend Thorin’s clothes I suppose,” Dori said taking his bag.

The last bag they had was Oin’s healer’s satchel (which everyone was glad to see). Glorfindel still had his own supplies which consisted of a personal bag as well as a bag of food.

Everyone still had their weapons, though Ori now wielded Dwalin’s warhammer. In the tunnels, knowing her slingshot would not be enough to protect his One from the goblins, he’d shoved it into her hands. She’d accepted it gratefully and used it to smash many a goblin bone.

“It’s not as much as we had, but it’s not as bad as it could have been,” Balin comforted the group.

Bilba sat and listened to the dwarves sing and joke and tell stories for awhile until sometime later when Oin put his hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, lass. I could use yer help ta treat Thorin’s wounds. Ye should have a soft enough touch, unlike most o’ these brutes,” Oin said to the hobbit. Then he rolled two of the polished log sections they’d used during dinner away from where the Company still sat at the table and over in front of the fire. “Roll another log this way too, if you can. With the two of us we should be able ta get ‘im taken care of right quick so we all can get some sleep.”

Bilba blushed to see Thorin was covered only in a blanket wrapped around his waist and hung down to his feet but left his abused torso bare. She moved her focus to rolling her log over to where Oin was setting his two.

Thorin sat in the middle so the two could work on him.

Bilba watched as Oin poured something in a bowl of fresh, hot water then started stirring. “First thing we gotta do, lass, is clean the wounds,” he told her then looked at Thorin. “This is going to sting a bit,” the healer warned.

Thorin nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Hold this,” Oin said placing the medicine/water mixture in Thorin’s lap. “Now, lass,” the healer continued, handing her a scrap of clean cloth, “What I want ye to do is clean off anything that might still be caught on the surface of the wounds. I’m gonna be flushing the inside o’ the wounds out.”

Thorin grimaced.

“What do ye expect when ye go play chew toy fer a warg!” chastised the silver haired healer. “Who knows what else it’s had in its mouth!”

“I have rather been trying not to think about that,” Thorin said.

Now given a task Bilba was forced to look closely at Thorin’s body. Two rows of punctures went across his torso both front and back. Purple bruises connected the gouges mapping exactly where the white warg’s mouth had clamped down. The hobbit took a steadying breath.

“Better him than you, lass,” Oin said seeing her concerned look. “That warg could have bitten a small thing like you in two. Dwarves are made of very sturdy stuff. Thorin will be right as rain in a few days. Ye’ll see.”

Bilba nodded and did as Oin told her, getting her cloth wet and gently wiping each wound. Oin was using a metal syringe looking thing to squirt the medicine into each wound. Thorin hissed each time.

Bilba saw Oin pick up a pair of tweezers and pull something out of Thorin’s back.

“That’s the one that hurts the most,” the dark haired dwarf hissed but held himself still.

“No wonder,” Oin said holding up tweezers that now clasped a blood covered shard.

“What is that?” gasped Bilba.

“A part of a warg tooth I’d say, either chipped off on the armor or it hit a rib,” offered the healer. He then proceeded to prod the area around that particular wound.

Thorin gasped then grunted.

“Still hurt then? Does it hurt to breathe?”

“A little,” Thorin admitted quietly, “but it is a very dull ache.”

“Hmm. A bruised rib maybe. I donna think it’s broken. Turn.” Thorin was guided so that his back was to Oin and his front to the hobbit.

Soon she found it was time to clean the gashes that crossed the Dwarf King’s face. The first touch of the cloth to the cut on his forehead pulled a gasp from him.

“Sorry,” Bilba said drawing the cloth back.

“Do not concern yourself. These are not my first wounds.”

“I doubt they will be your last,” groused the healer.

“Well, he did at least buy us some time,” Bilba said.

“Donna tell me you’re defendin’ this fool’s actions!” Oin exclaimed.

“No, he’s still a clot-head that is lucky to be alive.” Bilba raised a challenging eyebrow at the dark haired dwarf.

“Yes, and I thanked you for that,” Thorin responded with his own raised eyebrow.

“No, you didn’t actually,” Bilba contradicted. “You only said you were wrong.”

Thorin tilted his head down to focus the entirety of his gaze directly on her. “Thank you for saving my life,” he offered sincerely.

“You are welcome,” Bilba said just as seriously, then she smiled cheekily. “Let’s try to not make the necessity a habit, hmm? I’m still not very good at this fighting thing.”

“I shall endeavor to fulfill your request,” the Dwarf King said giving Bilba a small smile.

After the cleaning was done Oin mixed a paste of some sort in a small bowl. “This needs to go on every wound to help them heal, then I have some herbs to put on the bruises. Bandages go on after that. Oh, dear. Where did I put the bandages? Here. You get started with this while I go find them,” he said handing her the bowl of paste and walking off.

As Bilba started applying the medicine to Thorin’s face their eyes held one another. Both felt the intimacy of the moment, like they were the only two people in the world.

Thorin was appreciating her gentle touch across his skin, the way the firelight made her hair shine like gold, and the courage he’d been surprised to find in so small a creature. Minor injuries might not be so bothersome if she was the one to tend him afterwards. It was a good thing her touch was so light though. The blanket around his waist would only hide so much.

Bilba admired his piercing blue eyes, the ebony and silver of his hair, and his strength, not only of his body, but also his endurance and will. She had to force herself to keep her touches very light not only so his wounds wouldn’t be aggravated. The feel of his firm muscles under her fingertips fascinated her, and she wished she could touch him much more firmly. The spell lessened when Bilba moved around him to do the wounds on his back, but only a bit.

During his treatment the hobbit discovered that Thorin also had tattoos on his back. An inked bird outline done in the angular style of the dwarves spread its wings wide across his shoulder blades. Below the tail feathers a triangular pattern was on the left of the spine and a square pattern on the right. An angular twisting pattern, like the dwarves used on the hems of their tunics, descended down from each ending somewhere past where the blanket covered his waist giving the appearance that the bird was flying up Thorin’s back.

“Do these tattoos have meanings too?” Bilba asked quietly.

“Yes. Ravens have long been associated with the King of Erebor. The rest is… private. I am afraid I can not tell you what it means.” ‘ _Yet,’_ he hoped. The symbols below the raven would only have meaning if someone already knew their meaning. It was a representation of his private name, something he hoped to share with her if they ever married.

While Bilba was tending to Thorin, Oin was taking his time ‘finding’ bandages over by the rest of their traveling companions.

“I have some skill in healing if you would like me to look at Thorin Oakenshield,” Glorfindel offered.

“How will that get them together?” said Oin said pointing his thumb at two sitting over by the fire.

“How did you…” asked Fili. The others were surprised he was trying to get Thorin and Bilba together too.

“I’m hard of hearing, lad, not blind,” Oin huffed.

“The Dwarf King and the Hobbit?” Glorfindel pondered. “Yes, I suppose they could do well together."

"If Uncle doesn't muck it up first!" said Kili.

"If Thorin Oakenshield still needs healing before we leave I am willing to do so then if you wish,” the elf offered once again, then he smiled. "Do you have any other ideas on how to bring those two together?"

By this time the entire Company was invested in Thorin’s and Bilba’s relationship and yet another elf was willing to join the conspiracy.

One by one the dwarves drifted away to find beds for the night. As Bilba finished applying the paste Oin once more rejoined the pair. Together they put herbs on Thorin’s bruises then started with the bandages. Oin would wrap around the back then Bilba have to lean in and take them so she could wrap them around the front. This continued until the bandages covered the abused part of his chest.

“I thank ye fer yer help, lass. Maybe I’ll make a healer out of ye!” Oin smiled.

“You’re welcome. I don’t mind helping, but I hope there is little call for it!”

“Aye, lass. Good night to ye!”

“The same to you, Oin.”

“Rest well, Bilba, and thank you once again,” Thorin said.

Bilba smiled at him. Thorin rarely (if ever!) called her by name and it made her heart swell. “You are welcome. Good night, Thorin,” she said and went to lay beside Ori in one of the sleeping stalls. It was not long before she slipped into dreams.

oOoOoOo

Tawni discovered that her son, Gimli, was gone when the hunting party he had supposedly been traveling with returned two weeks later.

Gimli’s friend in the group said that he had told them Tawni had changed her mind at the last moment about allowing him to go with them on the hunt. He’d been given permission to accompany them to the first fork in the road, but was to then return to the mountain.

A distraught Tawni was explaining this to Nis and Dis in her quarters as they tried to comfort her when Gimli’s same friend knocked on her door. He’d found a note in his bedroom from Gimli for his mother.

Tawni grabbed it and quickly read through it.

“He went with the Ranger!” she wailed. “He could be killed! I have to go after him!”

“I know you are worried, but we must think rationally,” Dis said. “He has a two week head start traveling with a _Ranger_. They may not have even kept to the road! And there are several paths through the Greenwood and even more passes through the mountains!”

“But I know their destination! He is my son! I have to go!”

“I know,” Nis said as she placed her hands on Tawni’s shoulders.

“I can’t sit here and do nothing,” the agitated dwarrowdam whispered looking into the Regent’s eyes. In them she saw the sorrow of a mother that had already lost a son and realized that Nis truly did understand.

“You can not travel on your own,” Nis said. “Dis and her guards will go with you,” Nis insisted.

“Thank you, Nis! And you too, Dis! No words can express how I feel…” Tawni cried.

“I know. You start packing your things. We will go get the others ready so you can leave as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure Amad?” Dis questioned once they were back in the Royal Quarters.

Nis turned to her daughter, “Tawni is going to go no matter what. We can not change her mind, but you are more level headed than she.” She disappeared into her room for a few moments. When she returned she was carrying something in her hands. “It is entirely possible your journey will take you to Thorin. If it does, I want you to inform him of the recent happenings here that I dared not put down in a letter and I hope you did not.”

Dis shook her head, “No, Amad. I had already finished my letters anyways.”

“Good. I want you to take this with you,” Nis said handing over what she held.

Dis saw that it was the small package that Delvar had found on the dead prisoner.

“Amad?” she asked again. ”What about you?”

“Do not worry about me. I can handle the mountain,” she assured her daughter. “You wanted to go with Thorin in the first place and you said yourself just a few days ago that I do not actually _need_ your help to govern!”

“So I did,” Dis said ruefully, “but that was before Delvar found this!” She pointed at the package.

“There must be others that are involved and I think it best they not learn we have discovered this. It will be safer to not have it here. I also feel strongly that Thorin needs to see this. He needs to _know!_ ” Nis was emphatic. “I can trust no one to do this but you.”

Nodding Dis took the package. She gave her mother a half smile and said, “I think I can still leave you some help, though. How does an assistant with a keen mind and young legs sound?”

“Sounds like a dream,” Nis chuckled. “Who did you have in mind?”

“Kirlin, Bombur’s youngest daughter.”

“The one that is interested in law?”

“Yes. She has a picture perfect memory, and she _likes_ reading those dry official documents!”

“That could work out very well,” Nis mused. “Very well indeed!”

Two hours later Nis watched as Dis, disguised like her ten guards to appear as a typical patrol, departed through the Main Gate with Tawni. Not since the dragon had she thought a situation would arise that might mean her daughter could be safer outside the mountain than within.

Once Dis was out of sight the Regent went to make the decade of an enthusiastic and grateful new assistant. An assistant that would become instrumental in uncovering what was going on inside Thorin’s Halls.

oOoOoOo


	34. Beorn's House Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> elvish {English translation}  
> Khuzdul [English translation]  
> Iglishmek /English translation\  
> telepathy ((…))
> 
> Some of these scenes were written back when I started writing this. I'm so happy to finally share them!

 

oOoOoOo

The Company had breakfast together then Oin and Balin kicked all the males, themselves included, out of the house. With their clothes in desperate need of a wash of their own and no spares to change into while their clothes were drying Balin said the others would remain outside to give the two females privacy for their baths.

Bilba felt both relieved that she wouldn’t have to sit around in front of the Company in just a blanket like Thorin had and guilty that it forced the others outside. As a compromise Bilba convinced Ori they could wait for their clothes to dry in the room in the loft that Beorn had offered the previous night. It would still give them privacy and let the others take their turns in the bath as well.

After they finished washing they climbed up the steps. In the loft they found there were big straw bales stacked against the walls of the room, but plenty of loose straw covered the floor. The two could use it to make a comfortable bed to rest on especially with the two wool blankets they’d been given after their bath.

“Did you have a nice dream last night?” Ori inquired when they were finally assured of privacy.

Since Bilba was given the opportunity to actually touch Thorin’s bare skin last night she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised she’d dreamed of touching him more intimately. From the way Ori smirked and wiggled her eyebrows the hobbit could tell her dwarf friend knew exactly what Bilba had been dreaming.

“It really doesn’t bother you that I dreamed about your King like... that?” Bilba asked blushing.

“Bother?! I hope you marry him!” Ori told her.

“Marry!” squealed a startled Bilba.

“Aye! You would be so good for him. It can’t be good for someone in his position to be alone like that. He needs a wife.”

“Well now, I don’t know about that. I mean I’m sure a wife he could confide in and count on for support would be very beneficial for him, but _me?!_ I haven’t decided if I even like him yet! He can be such a clot-head!” Bilba huffed. “He only makes the attempt to be cordial half the time. And then there is the fact that I’m not even a dwarf! Wouldn’t your people object to the King marrying outside your race?”

“There are some that would,” Ori said seriously, “but if they object just because you aren’t a dwarf without getting to know you then they aren’t worth the bother. Everyone else will just be ecstatic that he finally married.”

“Oh. Well,” Bilba cleared her throat, “I suppose it is not entirely outside the realm of possibilities. You never know what the future might bring. I still think you are jumping a bit ahead with the talk of marriage though.”

Ori just smiled.

“Oh, bother,” Bilba said running (or trying to run) her fingers through her hair. “It’s going to take forever to detangle my hair again. Would you be willing to help me?”

Ori’s smile turned tremulous and shy, “You would let me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bilba asked puzzled.

“You cut your hair,” Ori said sadly then rushed on. “It’s perfectly understandable if you don’t trust any of us enough to let us take care of your hair! It’s your right to choose who can or can not touch it, of course, but I’d thought with how close we’d become that you might have trusted me enough so you could keep your hair. You let me help untangle your hair when we arrived in Rivendell. I just… I don’t want to over step,” the dwarf finished, wringing her hands.

“Oh, Ori! I really hurt your feelings, didn’t I?! I’m so sorry!” Bilba cried giving her friend a hug. “Getting a haircut isn’t a big deal for hobbits. Truly it isn’t! My decision really had nothing to do with how I feel about you or anyone and was not meant to insult either. And of course I trust you! Believe me, if I had known the trouble and hurt it would cause I wouldn’t have done it. You lot have your own hair to take care of and I didn’t want to become even more of a burden than I already am.”

“I think you proved you weren’t a burden when you saved Thorin back in the mountains,” Ori smiled.

“Maybe,” Bilba conceded.

“Anyways, haircare isn’t a burden,” Ori insisted. “It’s an honor and a privilege. We enjoy doing our hair!”

“Then I don’t see a problem!”

“So,” the dwarrowdam smiled starting on detangling one side of her friends hair, “what _did_ happened in your dream?”

Bilba flushed, “Surely there must be something more interesting we can do while we wait!”

oOoOoOo

Thorin and Balin sat on logs outside with Gandalf and Glorfindel. Dwalin stood nearby watching the others wrestle with one another as they awaited their turn for a bath.

“How did your meeting with the White Wizard go?” Balin quietly asked the two Tall Folk.

Tharkun sighed. “You didn't miss anything. Saruman expressed his displeasure about your quest and wanted to stop you, but he gave no indication of changed loyalties.”

“Besides not mentioning anything about what the Lady Galadriel discovered in Orthanc, of course,” Glorfindel added.

The Gray Wizard nodded, “Not definitive proof of betrayal, but neither is he in the clear. We must continue with our plan as discussed without Saruman’s assistance.”

“Do we have a wizard pursuer in addition to the orc pack already at our back?” Dwalin said turning to face them.

“I do not believe so. Or if he does decide to come after you then you have some time,” Gandalf said.

“He and Lady Galadriel will be sharing the road back at least until Isengard. What he will do after that who can say,” offered Glorfindel.

“When do we lose your company, Tharkun?” asked Thorin.

“I will see you as far as Mirkwood. From there I will leave you in Glorfindel’s very capable hands,” said the wizard.

“I would like to see you safely through to the other side before I go to meet with King Thranduil, but if we come across any patrols I’m afraid that will be most unlikely,” said the blonde elf. “I doubt the King would allow dwarves to cross his land without an explanation.”

“With any luck,” Gandalf said, “you just might be able to avoid their patrols.”

“If we are counting on luck I would put my money on being forced to see Thranduil,” grumble Thorin.

“All too possible I’m afraid, but perhaps now be a good time to start your mental defense training?” Glorfindel suggested.

“I believe that would be a good idea. The book you gave me was lost in the Goblin Tunnels,” Thorin said.

“Better it than your lives, I would say,” offered the elf. “I will teach you what I can before our paths part. And any of your company that would wish to learn as well.” And so for the rest of the day, aside from their own turns for the bath, Balin and Dwalin joined Thorin in his lessons on how to protect their minds from outside influences.

By the time for dinner came around all had had the opportunity to get clean, though half were, as the hobbit could have claimed, still improperly dressed. Again clothed, Bilba and Ori joined the rest down stairs once more.

“You’ve done your hair!” Kili exclaimed drawing everyone’s attention to the hobbit.

“Um, yes. Well, actually Ori braided it for me,” Bilba said running a self conscious hand over her hair.

More looks than Kili’s were green with envy.

Bilba’s hair was tightly wound in two braids. They started small near the front of her head and each grew larger as more hair was added going around the sides and meeting in the back. Ori had hidden the ends inside each other somehow so they weren’t dangling down her neck.

“It looks nice,” Fili offered.

“Indeed it does, lass,” smiled Balin. “How do you like it?”

“Fine. It’s just going to take a bit to get used to it. Normally I wear my curls free with nothing but the occasional ribbon.” There were some hobbit women who did their hair up, but Bilba had never learned how to do anything similar. Her mother had always worn hers down and had died before Bilba had ever thought of doing anything else with her own hair.

“Well, you can always just keep trying different hairstyles until you find one that works best for ye,” said Gloin.

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Bilba tried to object, but most of the Company was off with the subject making suggestions to Ori on what she could try next and arguing over what might or might not work with the hobbit’s short, curly hair.

Thorin thought the current style was eminently suitable for the road. He would miss seeing the way her curls would bounce and sway, but if this would keep her from cutting her hair again, it was a sacrifice he could live with.

oOoOoOo

It was long after dinner and most had sought their beds. Thorin and Gandalf, however, were still sitting by the fire smoking their pipes when the Dwarf King had a thought.

“Tharkun, what happened to my father’s body?”

The wizard let out a puff of smoke from his pipe before answering.

“I was able to find a small fissure in the rock at the edge of the fortress. I placed his body inside and then collapsed the opening. I am sorry I could not do more, but I was being pursued by servants of Sauron,” he sighed.

“Do you think you would be able to find that spot again?”

“If we are successful in dealing with Sauron I will take you there when this is all over.”

Thorin nodded and they both went back to smoking their pipes.

oOoOoOo

Their host returned the following morning. Beorn explained that he’d gone to check on their story. He was much more friendly to the travelers now that he knew it was true.

After breakfast Balin pulled Bilba aside.

“Would you be willing to help me get some private time for Dwalin and Ori together, lass?”

“Oh, yes! Of course! Did you have something particular in mind?”

“Well, I thought I’d distract Dori with repairing Thorin’s clothes, and Nori will be sparing with the other’s outside. I was hoping you could get Ori away without it being suspicious.”

“Hmm… I saw Beorn has some blackberry bushes around the back of the house. I could ask him if we could pick some.”

“That would work. How about this,” Balin said then told her his idea.

“Oh, my! You are a devious one aren’t you?” Bilba grinned. “I love it.”

The two conspirators went to fulfill their roles. Beorn was more than willing to let Bilba harvest some berries, especially after she offered to make something with them.

A short time later Bilba had Ori behind the house looking at Beorn’s bushes ladened with ripe blackberries when she spotted the burly dwarf appear at the corner of the house.

“Oh, bother. I forgot a basket. And here’s Dwalin! I’m sure he’ll keep you company while I go find something to put the berries in. I won’t be a tick,” Bilba exclaimed and was off before either said anything. Rounding the corner Bilba found Balin was there grinning like a tween, and holding the basket she was ‘off to find’. He brought a finger to his lips the pointed at the corner. Together they tip toed over to spy on the couple.

Ori’s shyness once more overcame her when the hobbit departed. If she had been wearing her normal scarves most of her face would have disappeared behind them. Though he hid it better, Dwalin was afflicted by the same nervousness in the presence of his One.

Their experience in the Goblin Tunnels had shown him that his time with her could end at any moment. Thorin may be willing to risk waiting, but Dwalin was more willing to risk having his heart broken by a refusal for just the chance to tell her how he felt.

Stepping up next to Ori he fingered the small bag he held in his hand. The two stood awkwardly next to each other for a few minutes. Dwalin tried to come up with the words. Balin had always been better at speaking, and he privately cursed him for it. Eventually he did the only thing he could think of and shoved the little bag at Ori.

Giving him a small but confused smile the dwarrowdam took the bag and poured the contents of it into her hand. Ori gasped. She held four hair beads in her palm. They had a gold core surrounded by a deep blue jade tube that had been intricately carved in a lattice pattern that let the gold peek through. They were absolutely beautiful!

“Yer my One,” Dwalin finally got out. Shocked Ori’s head snapped up to look at him. “Would ye permit me the honor of courting ye?”

Ori stood there speechless for so long Dwalin took her silence for a declination. Nodding he turned to go. This finally spurred her into a response. She grabbed his arm.

“Yes,” she said softly in her shy voice.

“Yes?” Dwalin said hopefully, turning back to her.

“Yes,” Ori confirmed once more. It came out as almost a sob in in her joy. “You are my One as well.”

Dwalin broke out into the most brilliant smile she’d ever seen on him. He thought he’d never been so happy in his life.

“Will you help me put them in?” Ori asked.

Just as the first bead was secured the two conspirators watching from around the corner of the house were startled by a voice behind them.

“What are you doing?” Thorin asked.

Bilba and Balin turned to shush him, but paled when Dori walked by.

“What are you looking… at?” the silver haired dwarf trailed off as he finally saw. He was frozen for but a moment then he charged at the dwarf who dared touch his sister.

The first blow landed right on Dwalin’s nose, and Dori kept swinging from there. Dwalin brought his arms up to guard his head and block as many punches as he could, but he did not try to strike Dori back.

Ori, Balin, Thorin, and Bilba all yelled at Dori to stop. The noise brought everyone else running. It took four members of the Company to pull the silver haired dwarf off of Dwalin after he’d fallen to the ground. The thing that finally stopped Dori was Bombur, at Bilba’s instruction, sitting on his legs.

“Get off me! Do none of you care about her honor?! I won’t let him hurt her!” Dori ranted.

“‘E’s no’ the one hurting her right now. Ye are,” Nori scolded. “Just look at her! Ye made her cry!”

Dori looked for his sister and found that tears were indeed falling down her face as she and Oin knelt next to Dwalin helping him hold a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

“But he just wants to use her,” Dori objected. “He was touching her hair!”

“Look at tha’ bead in her hair!” Nori shouted. “That’s a courtin’ gift if I ever saw one!”

“Is that true?” Fili asked. “Are the two of you courting now?”

“Yes,” Ori said giving her eldest brother a nervous look.

Kili made a disgusted sound then he, Fili, Bofur, and Gloin tossed small bags of coins at Nori and surprisingly Oin.

“Dwarves,” Bilba shook her head. “I think we have something more important to concern ourselves with than some bet.”

“Yes, and this is precisely the reason I wanted you to wait until after the quest was completed to approach her,” Thorin told his best friend.

“I’ll take this, including the bloody nose, over possibly losing any chance at all,” Dwalin shot back.

“I haven’t given you my permission!” Dori objected.

“You have mine,” Nori countered.

“Wha-?!” the elder brother started.

“Do you doubt Ori’s judgment?” Bilba interrupted. “Do you doubt her ability to make a sound decision on who makes her happy?”

Dori sputtered.

“After all, she is your sister,” Bilba continued. “Isn’t that what you want for her? To be happy? It’s true I do not know your customs and traditions, but I dare say that much is a common enough wish for siblings of any race.”

“Ori’s of age. Dwalin donna legally need permission. It's just fer tradition, ‘n fer tradition he only needs one o’ us to approve. But I know it’d make Ori happy ta have both our approvals, ‘n I wanna see Ori happy!” Nori said ending in a shout.

“He’s not good enough for her,” Dori objected.

“Don’t you think that’s for Ori to decide?” Bilba reasoned.

This reminded Dori and the others that knew of the circumstances that lead to the hobbit to joining them on their quest - of how others trying to take away her choice had almost cost her dearly.

Dori’s mouth gaped open and closed for a few seconds before finding himself. “Fine. I will give him permission to court Ori as long as they aren’t intimate before a wedding takes place. And I expect the rest of you to act as chaperones as well!”

“Dori-,” his brother sighed.

“If that is what he demands for his permission, I accept,” Dwalin said. “Ori is worth it.”

“Durn straight she is!” Dori exclaimed.

Those that had been sparing returned to the area they’d designated for it now that the commotion was over while Ori helped Dwalin back inside. Dori followed close behind, serious about chaperoning his sister, and Nori as well to temper his brother’s protectiveness.

“Well, now! That went better than I thought it would,” Gandalf chuckled.

“That was _better_ _?!”_ Bilba exclaimed.

“Oh, yes!” Gandalf affirmed. “That was, at most, a broken nose. It could have gone much, much worse!”

“Aye, lass. I could name quite a few courtships that started with worse injuries than that before permission was given,” Balin said. “I’d just hoped to avoid it for my brother’s sake.”

Bilba stared at him aghast for a moment, then shook her head in disgust. “I’m going to pick some blackberries for tonight’s supper. We have something to celebrate after all!”

“Blackberries?” Thorin asked interestedly just now spotting the bushes.

“Since your helper has gone to off be a nursemaid perhaps Thorin could help you,” suggested Balin.

“Aye,” said Oin. “He shouldna be moving his arms too much, but he can carry the basket for ye. And it will keep him from being tempted ta join the others in sparring.”

Thorin gave the healer a scowl.

“As long as you can keep from eating more than we can pick, you are welcome to join me,” Bilba chuckled picking up Beorn’s basket from where it had been dropped and held it out to Thorin. “It will be a terrible trial, I know, but I’m sure you can do it!”

Thorin was able to resist temptation for several minutes before sneaking a blackberry into his mouth when Bilba’s back was towards him. This continued for awhile before he had to freeze mid-chew when the hobbit turned back before he’d expected her to.

Bilba raised an eyebrow at him. “Open your mouth,” she said.

Thorin swallowed quickly and then obeyed.

Bilba surprised him. Instead of scolding him for his no doubt blackberry stained tongue she threw one of the little juicy bundles into his mouth.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have any!” Bilba smirked.

Thorin closed his mouth, smiling as he chewed the small treat.

After that every now and again she would turn and toss a blackberry lightly into the air and he understood he had to catch it in either is mouth or the basket. None of the berries she threw ended up in the basket.

oOoOoOo

Nearly every living creature at Beorn’s house regularly took the opportunity to observe (spy on) Thorin and Bilba interact with one another throughout the day.

“Little Bunny seems to be very good for the Dwarf King,” Beorn said to Gandalf from where they watched Bilba throw berries to Thorin.

“That she is,” the wizard confirmed.

“You hope there is more between them,” the skin-changer stated.

“I _know_ there is more between them, even if they have yet to figure that out for themselves.”

“If she has the potential to get him to become better than he is, I would encourage it,” Beorn nodded. That is when Thorin and Bilba’s relationship gained the support of a very large skin-changer.

oOoOoOo

The friendly atmosphere reminded Thorin of something he was supposed to speak with the hobbit about.

“Bilba, you know much about flowers do you not?” the dwarf asked her.

“I am reasonably knowledgeable for a hobbit,” she turned a smile at him pleased to hear him call her by her name again. “I know others that know more.”

Thorin liked seeing her smile, especially if it was for him. “Have you ever heard of a coumarin rose?” he inquired.

“Hmm…” Bilba took a moment to consider. “No, I can’t say that I have ever heard of a rose by that name,” she shook her head. “Why?”

“It’s just a name I saw somewhere. I’d never heard of it either. I thought that since hobbits are so fond of plants perhaps you would know what it is.” Thorin was disappointed. He had been sure he’d get the information they were looking for from Bilba.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you, but now you have me curious. If you ever discover any more about it would you let me know?”

“Of course,” Thorin said.

“I suppose it is possible it is another name for a flower I already know,” Bilba mused. “Do you know anything about it? How was it used?”

“Used?” Thorin was unsure if he should explain that to her.

“Was it used to send a message?”

“How would a rose send a message?” Thorin asked confused.

“All flowers have meanings. You do not learn the language of flowers, I take it.”

“No, we do not.”

Bilba spent the rest of the day telling him about the language of flowers. Thorin was content to listen even if he was unfamiliar with many of the flowers mentioned. Certainly he was interested enough to accompany her into Beorn’s kitchen and follow her orders as he assisted her in making several delicious somethings with the large basket of blackberries he’d carried in for her.

“That is a fascinating way to communicate,” said Balin who had joined them to check on dinner. “Could you say something like ‘I love you’ in the flower language?”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at his friend and councilor where Bilba could not see.

“A single red rose in full bloom, and if the thorns are removed it means ‘at first sight’ too,” Bilba told the white haired dwarf, though unlike Thorin, she was thinking about Ori and Dwalin. “Oh, dear me! I’ve been going on! Now, why don’t you tell me what you do know about that coumarin rose and how it was used?”

“I am not precisely sure,” Thorin hedged. “It said it was red in color and implied it was used as something harmful.”

“Harmful?”

Thorin and Balin exchanged a glance. Because of their long acquaintance, Thorin could tell that Balin was encouraging him to answer truthfully, but would understand if chose to deflect.

“Like a poison,” Thorin finally admitted.

“Poison!” Bilba exclaimed. “That doesn’t make any sense! Roses are edible!”

“They are?” asked Thorin.

Balin followed with, “All of them?”

“Everyone that I know of, or at least the petals are. Other parts are dangerous to eat, but why mention a color unless it was the petals that were used?” Bilba walked over to the window and plucked three petals from a bloom on the rosebush that was just outside. “Here,” she said handing each of them a petal, then popped one in her mouth.

Thorin exchanged a doubtful glance with Balin.

“There were flowers in several of the dishes I served in my smial. If they didn’t kill you then, I think you will survive now!”

Balin shrugged and put his petal in his mouth. “Hmm! It tastes somewhere between strawberries and green apples with a slight perfume mixed in!”

Thorin put his own in. “It tastes like-” he said looking to his friend.

“Amber Queen!” they said together.

“So,” Thorin said as they turned their gazes back to the hobbit, “Amber Queen is rose jam.”

“Mhm,” Bilba grinned. “It’s been a prize winning entry at the Harvest Festival for the Baggins’ for several generations now. But remember, that is a secret!”

“So Amber Queen is another one of your secret family recipes?” inquired Balin.

“Mhm!”

“Are you the one that makes the cases we buy?” Thorin wondered.

“Not the actual production, no. That is done by some very distant cousins, though I do know the recipe. The land my cousins live on is part of my father’s estate. They grow the roses and make the jam and split the profit with the estate.”

“If you can keep my sister supplied with Amber Queen she will love you forever!” Thorin smiled.

“I think I can work something out,” said Bilba.

“One thing I have always wondered though is why it’s called Amber Queen. An odd name from a people that doesn’t actually have any royalty,” said Thorin.

“Oh, that is easy! The type of rose used to make the jam is called ‘Amber Queen’. We didn’t name the rose itself. We use it because of the color, though any type of rose can be used.”

“Isn’t it difficult to keep it a secret in that case?” asked Balin.

“Not to anyone who doesn't know flowers, and there aren’t really that many beyond the Shire that are that interested. As far as other hobbits go, it is the recipe itself that is secret, not the fact that it is rose jam.”

“Are there many flowers that are edible?” inquired Thorin.

“Quite a few, yes! Violets are my personal favorite.”

Thorin and Balin learned some interesting and in other circumstances possibly valuable information, but as far as finding out how their people were being killed they were back to square one.

oOoOoOo

They had a small celebration that night for Dwalin and Ori. Neither could stop the smiles from covering their faces and rarely took their eyes off one another. They sat side by side at the table holding hands while Dori watched them like a hawk.

Bilba was thrilled for her friend, she just hoped Dori wouldn’t make things too difficult on the couple.

Thorin was genuinely happy for his friend, he just hoped this would not cause further strife on their quest.

Balin was overjoyed for his brother, he just hoped that they would get their ‘happily ever after’ together.

After dinner was over Oin enlisted Bilba’s help once again in treating Thorin’s wounds before heading to bed. Both she and Ori fell asleep to the dwarrowdam’s whispered praises of her newly acquired suitor.

oOoOoOo

The following morning the houses occupants were starting on breakfast when the last two stragglers passed the open door on the way to the table. Fili looked outside and stopped, prompting his brother to look as well. Both wore a confused expression on their face.

“What is wrong?” Glorfindel asked.

“It's... snowing!” said Fili.

This was met with various exclamations including “It is too early in the year!” from Thorin, “It's nowhere near cold enough for snow!” from Balin, and “What do ye mean it’s snowing?” from Dwalin.

Everyone rushed outside to look. Sure enough there were scattered flakes falling from the sky. It wasn’t much, hardly even enough to really be considered snowing except that Thorin and Balin were correct - it was both too early and too warm for such weather.

Gandalf reached out and caught a flake on his hand then ground it between his fingers. The wizard looked up to the sky visibly concerned. “It isn’t snow. It’s ash.”

oOoOoOo  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> Do NOT eat random flowers! The chemicals commonly used in gardening nowadays may make them unsafe to consume! Flowers meant for eating have to be grown specifically for that purpose!
> 
> On a sexier note another Bilba/Ori extended scene is up!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Born Home on Bluebird's Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389802) by [Hyperactivefangirl29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperactivefangirl29/pseuds/Hyperactivefangirl29)




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